Perfection Doesn't Exist
by Rely Muffen
Summary: Before the Golden Trio has a chance at becoming Aurors after the war, Hermione is assigned a mission where she has to go undercover and pretend to be a part of the Slytherin house, while keeping an eye out for potential Death Eaters, and most importantly, befriend Draco Malfoy. What does being a Slytherin precisely mean and how well can one trust the Sorting Hat? DRAMIONE!
1. Prolouge

_**Hello, everyone! *nervous giggle***_

_**I truly hope you enjoy the story and relish in the beautiful imperfection which we know as the term "Dramione" :) If you would like to enjoy reading the way I usually do, I would suggest to put this song (I'll put it at the end of the A/N) on repeat, and let it set the tone of the chapter. Thank you so much for coming here, and even if you didn't bother to read this (which I completely understand-I usually skip these parts of the fanfics too) I still love and appreciate the fact that you bothered to keep HP alive by reading this. **_

_**I'm not gonna beg for reviews. **__**If you feel like you have something you'd like to share with anyone who wishes to read your thoughts (like me! :D), by all means, feel free to do so. But my ultimate goal is not to feel good about myself; it's to make YOU appreciate the English language and relish in the wonderful world of fantasy. English is not my first language, and though I do speak fluently, if some lame grammatical error occurs, anyone is free to let me know.**_

_**Phew, sorry, this took longer than I thought. Anyway, I send hugs, kisses, (to everyone)and Airheads (to all those who haven't had a bite of the "sugar upon sugar" substance.) Oh, screw it. Airheads to everybody ;)**_

_**-The reason why this Fanfic is rated T-**_

**The only reason I felt the need to rate it T because of the language. The expected PG 13 (for teens and up) version of cussing will be present. No sexual scenes, I can promise that; only hot and heavy snogging. If you don't want to read something full of shitty talk, you should've stopped reading six words ago. **

_**-You have been warned.-**_

_**Theme Song of the Story (TSS): Fearless - Olivia Holt**_

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**PROLOUGE**

**HERMIONE**

If my eyes were able to burn worse than this, it would probably light on fire. Now I understand why Harry stuck to his glasses. No matter how many times they fall off, contact lens are constant pains in my ass that I cannot get rid of, for reasons I still can't believe. Don't get me wrong, my eyes are just as perfect as they were a week ago, but seven days ago, McGonagall decided that green coloured contacts are going to help my disguise. I remember our conversation as if it just happened a few minutes ago.

I was walking down Diagon Alley (completely unaware of the crowd that was surrounding me) while my head was buried in a book that I thought might help with my new job, being a retired/soon to be Auror. As I grasped onto a bag full of things I categorized as helpful material, to my surprise, I bumped into a fairly thin lady, with very fragile glasses, and a perpetual look on her face that made it clear she had a problem with something and she was going to fix it. "Miss Granger?" McGonagall clarified. "May I propose we have a butterbeer and talk?" It was one of those questions you can't say no to, so I nodded and started to follow her, with my curiosity increasing at every bumpy step I took on the cobblestones.

We sat down at a place I wasn't even aware of until now, and ordered two butterbeers. To be honest, I would've been by far more thankful for coffee this early in the morning, but I decided that since McGonagall and I came here to talk, it didn't matter what I was having for a drink. I looked up at her, hoping she wouldn't wait until I finish my butterbeer to start explaining why she would waste her money on one of her previous students, but from the delighted look on her face while drinking, I was convinced that would not be the case.

After a humongous inner conflict with myself, I decided I shouldn't bother to start conversation; that should be her job. So, to do something while waiting for the professor to be satisfied with her thirst, I settled for looking around. This place was quite cosy, and it seemed quite un-wizard like in my opinion. It seemed… human, really. The couches were a nice, dark shade of chocolate brown, and the walls were coffee coloured, while most of the tables were either glass or were painted black. It had nothing magical in it. It was as if we were in the shop next to the entrance of Diagon Alley. Has McGonagall chosen this place so we can't have any eavesdroppers?

"Miss Granger, I need you on the same page with me before I start talking. Are you familiar with the fact that Draco Malfoy was going to kill Dumbledore three years ago?" I nodded, trying hard not to show emotion on my face. "The staff and I agreed," she continued, "that we can't just leave him wondering about the school. Who knows what Voldemort's followers have planned for the poor boy next?"

_Poor boy_!? You've got to be joking! Yes, Malfoy spared Dumbledore's and Harry's life, and for that my dislike for him has decreased from the level of _pure hate_ to _just hate_, but that definitely doesn't mean that I will ever forgive him for all those terrible ways he treated us. Punching him in the face once was nice, but that was, number one, seven years ago, and number two, it will never add up to what he deserves as a person, if anyone could call him that. True, I've never truly met Draco Malfoy without him being cornered by his friends or family members, probably forcing him to act out because of peer pressure, but my microscopic hopes of Slytherins having a drop of good in them, nicely evaporated over the years—mostly thanks to Malfoy.

"Professor, I'm completely filled in on what happened. With all due respect, I might actually know more. Harry and I are as close as friends can get, and he tells me everything. Even things he doesn't like to talk about. I know what Malfoy did, and I completely agree with you and the staff about not having him wandering around the corridors because he decided to repeat his seventh year, but I still don't understand what you want me here for. You know neither Ron, Harry, or I will be going back to Hogwarts this year, or any other year. Maybe it is a terrible mistake, but we all need a break from a stressful life, no matter what level of stress it is exactly. Also, as far as I know, we have been informed that we may come back and attend our eighth year whenever we please, so I don't even feel the least bit guilty for neglecting to do so in the past three years.

"And I'm sorry Professor, but I have other important things to worry about than a student that _might_ be a spy in the school this year. So if all we came here for is to drink butterbeer and inform me about Dumbledore's death and its minor details, well, thank you, but I already know them. Professor McGonagall, I really don't mean to offend you, but I have to go." While I was talking I picked up my stuff, and I tried to avoid McGonagall's eyes as much as possible.

As I stood up after my clearly offending speech, (which I am not proud of) I saw the professor's face and I froze. She had tears in her eyes. In the history of Hogwarts there was not one student who managed or dared to cause Minerva McGonagall to tears. The shock that ran through me forced me to sit back down and listen to whatever she had to say. But as I scrutinized her worried face, it became clear to me that she wasn't crying because I hurt her feelings, (I was stupid enough to think so for a second that that might be the case) she was crying because she was under a lot of stress, and she was anxious about something.

"Professor I—"

"It's alright. Y—you don't know. I—I shouldn't have stalled. I'm just so… _concerned_ for you. But I really can't think of any other option other than this. Miss Granger… when I said the staff and I agreed on something, I didn't just mean that we agreed on Mr Malfoy's… situation. What I didn't mention was that we need someone to—to keep an eye on him. Someone we know we can trust. We need… we need…" Now she was in the state of a complete melt down. She had tears running down her cheeks, which were the size of the largest marbles imaginable, and her eyes became red and puffy.

I knew it was completely absurd for a student to comfort a teacher, but I didn't really have a choice. I stood up from my seat that felt like I've been glued to, and walked over to hug her. She accepted with no awkwardness whatsoever, but by now I also figured out what the staff needed. They needed a spy for Malfoy, and they needed a student.

"You need me," I stated. She looked up from a tissue she picked up from the table. Seems like she is too sad to even use magic, I thought. How tragic. The person who should be depressed is me, even though I understand her reasons of worry and I appreciate it in a certain level, it is her fault I will have to be a secret spy on Malfoy. But how on earth am I going to do that? I'm a Gryffindor, for heaven's sake! Even if I tried I wouldn't be able to make out a word he says, and that would be on the _corridor_. Are they so willing that they'd let me sneak in to the Slytherins' common room?

"Yes, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied to my statement. "I bet now you have numerous questions, which I promise I shall answer, but for now, please respect that I am too—"

"Professor McGonagall! Tell me! I deserve to know what is going on! I understand that you believe in my knowledge more than necessary, which I truly do appreciate, but how do you expect me to help you, when I'm supposed to be getting ready for my first job interview, while I need to figure out what the rest of the unfound Death Eaters' plans are, and still help you keep an eye on Draco. Do _not _tell me you want me to use the Time Turner again, because I will be _seen_. And, also, how do you expect me to eavesdrop on Malfoy, when I'm not even in the same house as he is? I understand you mentioned earlier that you need someone you can trust, so due to obvious reasons you can't choose a Slytherin, but Professor, how am I any help? This, to me, seems like Mission Impossible!"

"The what?"

"Please, Professor, don't pretend like you didn't hear anything I just said."

I couldn't believe myself. I just couldn't understand what overcame me. I am the good girl, who would've been Head Girl her last year. I'm the girl that always hands in her homework two weeks before it is necessary, and I always—ALWAYS—respect teachers. At the moment I'm arguing with McGonagall as if she were Draco Malfoy herself.

"Miss Granger, I understand your distress. My cowardice should not take part of the information that is needed to be provided to you." She took a shaky deep breath. "Yes, we do need someone to watch over Mr Malfoy, and everyone agreed that you would be most beneficial. As an answer to your earlier question, no, we will not be using a Time Turner; to be honest we are not exactly using much magic at all." She looked deeply into my eyes before she continued. "We are moving you into Slytherin for your seventh year in Hogwarts, Miss Granger. We will apply some Polyjuice Potion, provided by Professor Slughorn, which will be just enough to change your hair texture and colour, and to make it last for ten entire hours.

"Now, I've done some my… _research_," she pronounced the word as if it tasted sour, "and it seems that you will have to wear contact lens to complete your disguise. Professor Slughorn, sadly, couldn't make the potion strong enough to last ten hours if it involved changing your eye colour as well. We will provide your new robes and books for you, because, yes, I was well aware that you were planning on becoming Aurors with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley. The staff that I trust, the ones that are involved with the Mr Malfoy situation, and I will all pretend as if you were a new student here, and also will spread the word that you, yourself, went with the two boys for the interview, and inevitably got the job.

"Miss Granger, I know it is asking a lot for you to give up helping the boys in person and completing an entirely different task, but please, I am asking you as nicely as an elderly woman as myself possibly can, do this for the school. Do it for the first years. Do it for your friends."

She looked up at me with pleading eyes and a sort of fire of revenge was burning in them. She didn't just care about the school's safety. She also cared about Dumbledore; everyone else feels the same way, including me.

The word _friends_ rang in my ears as if I were in a room that was brand new; no paintings on the wall, no pictures.

I knew I had no choice.

* * *

_**Next TSS: Domino - Jessie J**_

_**Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, this is FANfiction. Meaning, the original story doesn't belong to me. J.K. Rowling invented it; I'm just perfecting it ;) **_

_**(No, just kidding. Perfection DOESN'T exist. A little FYI, just in case you missed it.) **_


	2. Chapter One - The Green Light

_**I got so excited that 59+ people decided to give me a visit yesterday, that I figured I should just upload the first chapter because it was finished anyway. We're getting to the awkward meeting, mates, just hang in there with me :) **_

_**We also (as you can probably tell) receive a lecture from Draco, because it is simply infuriating that people don't see how sad this child's life probably was. If you are ready to have Draco Malfoy's life finally tenderly exposed, then here it is. Also, Hermione's diguise is getting prepared for exposition. **_

_**Enjoy this chapter with us, HP fans, and one of the universe's most amazing queens of music culture: the one and only, Jessie J.**_

_**TSS: Domino - Jessie J **_

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**CHAPTER ONE — THE GREEN LIGHT **

**DRACO**

"Could they request for books that are actually worth the cost? I would truly appreciate it if your mother wouldn't have forced me to send you to such a stupid school because it's 'closer to home'. Ridiculous. But I guess it doesn't matter anymore. You've got this year left, and then finally you can truly focus on what's most important. Right, Draco?"

And now is a perfect time for me to go into what I call the Draco Delta. It's my whiny place, where I lay all the stupidity of my life out flat. That is why I nicknamed it a Delta. I usually do this twice a month, and I become honest with myself—at least as honest as I possibly can. So here it goes.

If he'd actually try and make his speeches just a bit more interesting I might actually listen. Nowadays, I truly don't know what Father means when he says _most important_. I just don't get it. It's supposed to be up to me, isn't it? But, no, they all just have to gang up on me and boss me around, pretending like they control my future _and_ mind, for that matter. I'm really getting sick of it.

I remember leaving for Hogwarts seven years ago: extremely excited about leaving home, staying there for an entire year without any true parental supervision. It seemed like the most exhilarating thing in the wold back then. Of course, I made the mistake of telling that to Father, and then came a never ending, boring lecture about why Hogwarts is the worst school in the world and why I shouldn't appreciate it. Then he told me all about what Bellatrix would say, but she was still locked in Azkaban back then, so she couldn't do it in person, and three years ago, she never failed in doing so. Perfect. I also remember Father telling me that if I don't get in to Slytherin he will not accept me as his son anymore. That was also as encouraging as it could get for an eleven year old child like me. Then he informed and constantly reminded me about being a Pure Blood. And he told me all about Mud Bloods. So, obviously, as a smart little kid I was, I went bragging all about me being a Pure Blood just like my father used to. Then I kind of just got stuck with it.

When the sorting took place I tried to hide my fear of not getting in to Slytherin by smiling as evilly as possible at everybody. I was hoping that the hat with some luck would see me doing so, and decide I am worth of being in Slytherin. I got my wish, quickly became the school bully, so I could keep my status as _Slytherin Prince_, which Father presented me with the first time I was introduced to Professor Snape, and I became the enemy of everyone possible, even my friends—or whatever you want to call them— who hated my guts. They only stuck around because, as I mentioned, I was and still am the Slytherin Prince.

Actually, I have a silver necklace that has a green serpent on it, just like the one on our house logo, and it has its head surrounded by a crown-pattern. It looks absolutely fascinating. It seems so real. But whatever that necklace is portraying, it doesn't feel like me. But I would never admit this to anyone. I've still got some Malfoy pride in my blood. This is how it is: Draco and his thoughts against the world. Sounds fair, doesn't it?

"Father… do you mind if I go get these… _horrifying _books um… by myself? Just so you—"

I bit my tongue before I let the last few words (don't have to worry about it) could slip. What is wrong with me? I usually don't let my real thoughts surface at all. I've learned to keep my feelings and facial expressions in two different parts of my brain. Both as far from each other as possible. And, usually, I don't even bother with feelings. I'm not just a male, I'm a _Slytherin_. The only emotions we care about are the ones we put on the Dark Mark when we conjure it.

But why did I become a Slytherin, anyway? Just because all my family, as far as I know, was in it, that certainly shouldn't mean that I had no choice but being put into Slytherin. I have my own personality and no matter what it is, I will probably never know, since my family has no idea what a characteristic of a human is.

It does sound like I complain a lot, but truth be told, after seventeen years, a kid gets used to all the shit going around and about him. Now, they're just plain facts of my everyday life. Beatings? So, what? Screaming? I get it all the time—especially when Lestrange entered our house back then. Mother told me constantly to call her Bella, but I truly was incapable of doing such. 'Bella' in Italian means beauty, and she was definitely not beautiful in my eyes. Sure, sometime in her life she probably was pretty. But gaining the insane look and the hair she couldn't tame after a while was just too much.

The only person in the Malfoy household I have a sane relationship with is my mother. Her getting into Slytherin is one of the biggest mysteries of my life. I don't understand. Yes, she is as clever as can be, but then shouldn't have she been in Ravenclaw? And if she is so loyal to everyone around her, why wasn't she in Hufflepuff? And now that I come to think of it, she might as well have made it to Gryffindor, for all I care. She is braver than any Death Eater I have ever encountered. How does being loyal make you a Slytherin? Backstabbing does that accomplishment. Or, how does being brave make you a Slytherin? Being a Slytherin only adds up to being evil, and Narcissa Malfoy, no matter how narcissistic her name might sound, is the kindest person I know, as far as not considering school grounds. Because whoever is the kindest person there, I would never admit that. Not even on the Draco Delta.

Jumping back to the present, I realized I didn't finish my train of thought out loud and Father was eyeing me with the look of scepticism on his face. He knows something is wrong with me today. Hell, he probably realized something's been wrong with me all week. I keep coming back to the same question that no one can answer: why do people trust the Sorting Hat so much? All the Sorting Hat does is say a house that forces an entire Year to be divided into four, making them rivals, then due to the atmosphere of their house, it determines what kind of grown up they will become.

"Father, j—just go. There's no reason for you to stand here and watch all these idiots walking around, while they are buying idiotic books for their year at Hogwarts. Disappear. Now. There's really no reason for you to stay here. I can do this idiocy by myself, thank you very much. I don't need your help."

And then it hit me. Like lighting as it always does. This happens at least three times a day, and I can never get my mind off of it.

I'm standing about fifteen feet from Dumbledore and I am screaming at him. The adrenaline is racing through my skin, mixed with fear, and a feeling that I can't exactly place.

_"__Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please, let me help you."_

_"__I don't want your help! Don't you understand?! I have to do this! I have to kill you—or he's going to kill me."_

Then Lestrange comes into the picture and starts talking about all sorts of things. She comes much too close than necessary and I flinch. But I can't think much of her due to my situation. I can't really think of anyone at the moment. All I can think about is Dumbledore. Father Headmaster had tried to teach me the difference between love and hate—one is worse than the other, but no one knows which one's which. My hands shake and I quiver, but still nothing happens. Then Snape comes.

_"__No," _he answers a part of a conversation I tuned out unintentionally.

I look up at him, finally feeling free to drop my wand from pointing at the Headmaster, and look at him hopefully. Maybe he can help. Maybe he'll find a way to solve this nonsense.

Dumbledore looks down on something then back at the black-haired professor. _ "Severus… please."_

_"__Avada Kedavra." _

A green light flashes and he's gone. I hold back a scream with a choke, as inexplicable tears start to fill my eyes. Then Snape grabs the collar of my shirt and pulls me away from the scene.

Now as I look into Father's eyes… I just can't stand it anymore. I turn around and run. Anywhere, just away from him.

* * *

**HERMIONE**

"You've got to be _kidding _me!" Ron chuckled as he stared at me like some kind of zoo animal. "Hermione, what are _you _bloody afraid of? McGonagall would never ask you to do this unless she was a hundred per cent sure you could do it."

I filled Harry and Ron in about this stupid 'mission' as the boys liked to call it, and at the moment, I was grasping my Polyjuice Potion in my hand while I had my green contact lens' plastic holder in the other. Ron is right, I shouldn't be afraid of this. There's nothing scary in it, as far as my vocabulary goes. It's not like seeing the Dark Mark for the first time, it's also not like being out mastered by Harry in Potions class (before I found out he was cheating), but still I'm afraid I'm going to manage to mess it up somehow.

"On three?" I asked. Harry, who was sitting next to Ron on a couch in the Weasley's house, smiled and nodded. Ron made a gesture that clearly stated I should proceed.

I took a deep breath, held the cup that was filled with Polyjuice as far from me as possible and let the brown, mushy nastiness run down my throat. One time, I drank this and my entire body felt like it was on fire. Of course, it probably didn't even have the actual effect it should've had because I turned into a half-cat anyway. This time, though, it felt like my head was being frozen. It wasn't exactly like having a brain-freeze, but if you would increase the pain three times, it probably would be quite accurate. I looked down at my fuzzy hair, which started to become smoother, less tangled-like but still swirly, and lighter. It started growing, and once it reached lower than my belly button, it stopped. I looked up at the two boys who stared at me, their mouths hanging wide open; jaws dropped on the floor.

"So… how do I look?" I asked, with an unmistakable fear in my tone.

Ron just started shaking his head in amazement, but Harry quickly regained his right mind… or so I thought. "Hermione, please put your contacts in too," he asked, maybe a little too overenthusiastically.

I shrugged, since I didn't really have much of a choice. The train was leaving in an hour and I will have to get used to my new look a bit.

I opened the container and pulled out the partially green plastic. It looked disgusting. I knew that a lot of muggles use these things, but no matter how awesome they must look, they just seemed like the most revolting thing to me. Anyway, I managed to juggle it into my eyes somehow, though it was quite hard because the heavy make-up I was instructed to apply was clearly getting a little washed away, thanks to some supposedly close-to-water substance. Nevertheless I looked as strange and un-Hermione as I possibly could. A blonde girl with dark green eyes. It matched my Slytherin uniform which I already put on, just to try it on, for now. It made sense. McGonagall was smart enough to make me look like a Slytherin, and help me cover up all the Hermione who was on the outside. Not bad, Professor, not bad.

The boys, however, sat awestruck staring me up and down as if I was some Alien that came to rob them from the planet Earth. "Um… are you two still alive?"

Just before either of them could answer, Mrs Weasley rushed inside, with a large birthday cake in her hand and a watch in the other. "Harry, darling! Happy Birthday, pumpkin. I know it doesn't feel very festive at a time like this, but we all need to treasure the smaller things." She placed the cake on Harry's lap and who finally got out of the shock from staring at me.

"Mrs Weasley…" Harry couldn't choke out anything. None of us could. We couldn't believe that even when I was practically throwing my life away to save the world and leave the two boys by themselves, Mrs Weasley would bother with such a thing. Ron and I sang the birthday song, while Mrs Weasley magicked a package for the Birthday Boy out of thin air. If Harry was at loss for words when he got the cake, this time he became mute. No matter how many times he decided to try and choke out a thank you, it never worked out, so he gave up, and just enjoyed the celebration of his birthday.

Mrs Weasley then managed shuffle her way towards me without making it obvious; she was rather good at doing so. "Hermione, sweetie," she started. "Arthur told me to give you this watch. He told me you might need it for some reason. I don't quite understand though, cupcake. Why would you need to know the time while you're at your job interview?"

Oh, no. I wasn't supposed to tell anything about this to anyone, not even Mrs Weasley, and now I get to suffer the consequences. Mr Weasley probably knows about this entire Draco thing because he works for the Ministry. Good thing I tried on my completely black robe too. She at least doesn't realize that I'm wearing a Slytherin uniform. Oh, I feel really bad. Mrs Weasley is probably the nicest person I've ever met, and I really don't want to keep this secret from her. It just isn't the right thing to do.

But then I figured: it's time for me to get it character for being a sly Slytherin.

"Molly, um… you see my disguise?" I circled my hands around my face. "We all were planning to—to change the main things about ourselves, so the job isn't given to us because we're the Golden Trio—or something like that. We are going to use Polyjuice Potions. We need to know the time in order for us not to change back to our normal selves and get noticed. It was really nice of Arthur to give me this watch, thank you." It was surprisingly easy. For a girl who will be the Head Girl this year, it seems quite strange that I had no problem in lying. It came smoothly and as easily as anything.

"Oh," Mrs Weasley said. "Well, I was wondering why you changed your look." She smiled her warm and kind Mrs Weasley smile. "You look beautiful dearie. It suits you. No one is going to know it's you, unless someone tells them so. It took me a while to get used to your blonde hair, but you do look amazing, cupcake. It was your idea, wasn't it? The disguise? Because it's brilliant." She winked and walked out of the room, leaving all of us at the small celebration that no one else was part of.

"Hermione, why _do_ you think Dad sent you the watch… I mean, what you _really _think," Ron said, obviously confused by my lying skills. Harry seemed to have the same impression, because he didn't realize that though pretending to eat a cake so that people think you can't hear anything _would be_ smart, but since he wasn't chewing anything he put into his mouth; it was quite unsettling and completely transparent.

"I think he sent it to me so that, uh… Oh, God!" I looked at the watch and saw the time. That can't possibly be. I was so absolutely sure that I calculated the time right—oh, right. The surprise birthday party. Now I have ten minutes to get to the train station. "Well, thank God Mr Weasley was smart enough to do so." I looked up at the boys. "We need to leave. We all do—now."

* * *

Getting to platform 9 and ¾ was one of the most tiring things I had to do. I ran as fast as I possibly could, once I apparated behind a building, saying goodbye to both Harry and Ron as they rehashed their well-written answers to whatever question they'll have to answer—if they'll have to answer anything. Because who wouldn't want to give a job to Mr Boy Who Lived and Mr His Companion?

It felt nice to apparate again. It reminded me of good times. Of times when I conquered the challenges as easily as no one before me. I tried to make myself believe that I could do the same now. I didn't have much time to think about it though, because I had about six minutes left until the train leaves, and if I get stuck here, I'd probably get in trouble, and if I wouldn't want to get in a _huge_ trouble, I'd probably pull a stunt like Harry and Ron did back in second year, to try and reach Hogwarts without being caught but…

I quickly deleted that thought out of my mind and got my full attention focused on running. But just before I managed to do so, someone bumped into me. I fell, and dropped a few of my things.

"Geez! Thanks a lot," I mumbled indigently. And because I fell on my back, I quickly struggled against gravity and forced myself upright, though I really felt exposed down here.

"Excuse me?" said a really familiar voice. Oh, please no—just not yet. I did not practice a good speech to shove down his throat. I was planning to do that on the train when I'd have to. "You just—you know… oh, whatever. Sorry." Wait, _what_? _Draco_ _Malfoy_ just said _sorry_ to _me_? Could this week go any stranger? "K-hm," he cleared his throat, "I mean… um… What did you say your name was?"

The nauseating look I gave him undoubtedly made him think I wasn't going to talk to a stranger; however, this evil look naturally appeared on my face because I saw the blonde monster. I didn't even notice my snarl until then, so I quickly wiped it off my face and hoped he didn't think I was a complete idiot. "I can tell you're going to Hogwarts too," he continued, and pointed at one of my quills that I dropped.

I was in shock, and lost for words, yes, but Hermione Granger isn't known for chickening out, right? "That's correct, but I did not introduce myself… because, you know… I was too busy falling over." He snorted, and then shrugged.

"Oh, well, like I said, whatever. What house are you in? Do you know yet?" I just couldn't believe my ears. What the _hell _is wrong with Malfoy? He's actually talking to a person, civilized. Not to mention he's keeping up small talk. He hates small talk. I looked around just to make sure something wasn't wrong, like me being in Candy Land, or something along those lines, but that wasn't the case. Then I realized what is probably going on. He didn't have his friends around with him yet. _This _is probably the true Malfoy I always hoped deep down existed.

"Um… I'm in Slytherin. Are you going to ask what my blood-type is, Malfoy, or were you planning to postpone that question to a time when I'm not on the floor, gathering my things?" I asked, with an amused look on my face. But I couldn't quite place his. It looked strange. I never saw someone look so quizzically at me.

"How did you know my name? And should I remind you that I still don't know yours?" Crap. Yes, I did need to be reminded, for that matter. Not like I was planning on telling that to him. How am I going to explain this? I mean, Malfoy probably doesn't have girls bumping into him and knowing his name on a daily basis. Or… maybe they do! The knowing his name kind of thing, not bumping into him. That would be bizarre.

"Oh, you know, all the girls do is whisper about the handsome, heartbreaker, Draco Malfoy. It is quite hard to miss," I added with a hint of humour in my voice.

I heard him mutter something like, "Handsome, huh?" but then Malfoy decided it made no sense to stand over a lady who fell over, watching her collect her school supplies while he had nothing better to do than help. When he picked up the book I was planning on reading, I quickly snatched it out of his hand. Oh, I shouldn't have done that. Now he's gonna think I'm some kind of absurd freak. Great.

"Sorry, it's just my favourite book, and I'd really hate for it to tare or anything—"

"Wait, is this a muggle book?" Perfect. Here it goes. He's gonna figure out that I'm a muggle born, and the plan is ruined. I am a horrible person. I never should've said yes to this stupid thing. I wish I would've just walked out on McGonagall like I was planning to do. This is a disaster. Hermione Granger finally failed to do something. This definitely was not the place I wanted to start screwing things up.

"Yes, it's a muggle book. Problem?" It was lame. At least it wasn't good enough for a Malfoy type, and I knew it. He was analysing me, which for me was agonizing. It was like his piercing eyes were actually needles for mine. He was staring at them so intently…

"Alright, well, whatever your name is…" He held out his hand and once I reluctantly took it, for I was afraid he'd let go, like the normal Malfoy would've done, but he pulled me up and picked up a few other of my books, carefully avoiding my favourite one.

Though I understood his kindness to some extent, I still couldn't help but shake my head and grin disbelievingly. "My name is Hazel, by the way. Hazel Greens."

Malfoy chortled, but quickly hid his laughter in awkward coughing at the stupid name I came up with in four seconds. Of course it ended up like some rainbow crap.

"Considering you already know my name, Greens," he snickered. He held out his hand, this time, to introduce himself. I took it and shook it. "Just to make it official, Hazel, I'm Draco Malfoy; the Head Boy this year." The stunned look on my face probably hurt his feelings, but that was just low of McGonagall. True, I knew nothing about Malfoy's grades, but he skipped class so much that even if his grades were good, it wouldn't add up to such a responsibility. "What? Is it really that surprising? I'm not half as dumb as I seem."

I snorted, and tried to hide mine the same way he did: inefficiently. "It just… that I'm going to be Head Girl—"

Suddenly I remembered that I was supposed to reach a train in order to become a Head Girl, so without second thoughts, I grasped Malfoy's wrist and started running down the platforms. And just to make things clear, I only grabbed his wrist because it would've been rude to run off, and I also didn't want to ruin the acquaintance I've made with him—which I didn't think would be possible in such little time. I didn't think I'd make anything close to an acquaintance whatsoever, but since my luck seemed to be in kick, I didn't let it abandon me.

Honestly, I was expecting him to pull his hand away from mine once we are through, but he seemed quite amused for some reason. He was grasping onto his trolley about as tight as I was choking his wrist, but as I mentioned earlier, his face was amused. I figured my greatest chance of being able to sit with the Slytherins is if I sit with the Slytherin Prince, (I reluctantly had to let that thought sprout roots in my brain, because I'm going to have to deal with it for an entire year) and so I could do that, I didn't let his wrist go.

We went through the wall which had the signs 9 and 10 on either side. I froze to a stop. We were through alright, but… Where are we going now? Up to the train, yes, of course, but I never saw the Slytherins on the train before (not like I would've went looking for them anyway), unless it was Malfoy who came to torment us. The blonde saw my hesitation and quickly took the lead in our race towards the train. He ran up all the way to the front, and opened a door that I couldn't see until he placed his hand on an invisible handle, and beckoned me to step in first.

"It's a secret meeting place. There are much more Slytherins than you would be able to guess by the looks of it, so we made a deal with Snape—the potions teacher a few years ago. We got this amazing cabin. Come on. It's like those tents we sleep in before international Quidditch matches. We can come and go as we like, but you could call this place first class, if there is such a thing on a train, so, most of us just stay here and… hangout."

I tried to answer, but as a matter of fact, my mind was preoccupied with staring, and trying to suck in as much information as possible of the greenest room I've ever been in—probably since I was born. All the objects in the room had shades of green and silver. The couches, poufs, carpets and rugs, curtains, window frames, the floor, clocks, cabinets, lamps, and even the fire was emerald and was neatly placed in a jade wall—or whatever it could be called, considering this was, truly, all in a train—while the fire was happily crackling, it gave the entire space the creepiest feeling. And I loved it.

The green light of the fire was dancing on my cheeks and I looked up at the place which I was going to have to call my home, while the Slytherin Smirk was being mastered by one Hermione Granger. My eyes blazed with fire, and it wasn't just the reflection of that fireplace. It was desire. Desire to keep it burning. But once I was enchanted—which I was—I was as positive as I could be, that I wouldn't let it go.

* * *

_**I hope you're getting prepared for the "Opening of Your Eyes" ceremony, because I'm revealing secrets of the Slytherin house you wouldn't have dared to even consider as a probability. Only, J.K. Rowling kindly requested for me not to involve some stuff, in order for me to be aware of a few boundaries. No, I'm totally kidding (obviously). The only boundaries I've got, is my imagination, and recently dislocated wrist :/**_

_**Next TSS: Bad Boys - Victorious Cast**_

**_(Sorry about all the "Girl Empowering" songs. But like I said, mates, "Hang in there."_**


	3. Chapter Two - The World of Snakes

CHAPTER TWO — THE WORLD OF SNAKES DRACO

Watching Hazel stare around our Train Common Room, as I liked to call it, was completely entertaining for me. I honestly thought I'd never be able to erase the smug grin that was neatly forming on my face. She quickly made friends—odd. No Slytherin makes friends. What kind of person does she think she is? She seemed so certain about being sorted into Slytherin. Doesn't the Sorting Hat do its sorting when we arrive at Hogwarts? Surely not before hand; that seems impossible, because no student meets the Sorting Hat before they go to school. But who am I to question the transfers' sorting? I've been in this school since my first year. Clearly, I don't know what goes on behind the sorting of any new comers.

I felt a bit betrayed. The entire road trip Greens didn't even try to sneak a look at me, and I know that for sure, because I was staring at her the entire time. What is up with this girl? I was fairly certain that she was flirting with me, somewhat, when we first met—guess I miss judged. Anyway, Greens seemed to be trying a little too hard to keep conversation going with the selfish Slytherins. She tried practically anything. It was up to the point where she actually forced them to play this stupid game I never heard of. Whatever it is, I was thrilled there was probably three minutes left of this excruciating train ride, and I'll finally be reunited with Hogwarts. I was quite positive that this year will be something spectacular—maybe it was only the responsibility and excitement I felt because I've been away from this place too long, but I was ready to be back.

HERMIONE

I took a sip of my cup of water that some teacher gave each Slytherin to have for a drink, and then I went back to thinking, blah, blah, blah, blah. How can something ever be this boring? I sometimes—and luckily—missed this part of the school rituals. Paid attention only because I was determined to know the whole speech by heart—or did I pay attention because I refused to go "blah, blah, blah," when I was a Gryffindor?—, but this was absolute torture. It's not like I didn't have enough to worry about. I have to watch lame first years get informed in which house they go into. I'd prefer to actually explore the world as a Slytherin and live my life than pretend to be interested by the famous speech of "don't go into the Forbidden Forest; it's forbidden" performed repeatedly by... whoa. Who is the Headmaster this year?

I was honestly expecting McGonagall to take over the world of Hogwarts, but I guess that's not the way this year was planned. A man in his late forties or early fifties stumbled up towards the creepy-looking-owl-statue-thing and started his speech. But my only excuse for even pretending to pay attention was because the Headmaster was Professor Slughorn.

I accidentally let my guard down and let a gasp slip between my lips.

Flora, the girl I managed to make a decent acquaintance with, stared at me like gasping was committing adultery in public. Flora had a pale face and personality. She was kind of quiet, but when it came to setting things right and making people see the way she wanted them to see it, she wouldn't stop arguing until she got what she wanted. She had a twin sister, Hestia. They were not as identical as people imagine twins in their heads as.

Sadie also seemed pissed. Oh, excuse me. Apparently, making noise at the Slytherin table is forbidden. Sadie was a ginger girl, whose freckles were easy to confuse with tattoos—or the tattoos were easily confused with the freckles… I'm not quite sure… Anyhow, she was one of the main bullies. The way the Slytherin hierarchy in school popularity went, was like this: the most evil bullies go on top. Obviously, they have to be rich and two hundred percent arrogant and git-like. The less evil bullies get second place, the bullies that aren't as evil get the third slot, and so on so forth. My reputation has not been something they were keeping track of just yet, but I was sure that someday I'd have to do something I'd really dislike and most likely contradict with, in order to make sure I don't sink lower than third place in the ranking.

By the time I thought through all this, the stupid ceremony was finally over. The bitching was done and we could finally stop starving and get some food in our mouths—and this was probably the worst food I've ever eaten. Before I threw up, we were finally allowed to excuse ourselves and get out of these rough and atrocious seats. They had a hideous colour anyway.

I don't even know why I came back here.

DRACO

Wonderful. We were back to drinking those potions during the beginning of the year. You'd think the staff would notice that we're drinking something fishy, but my guess is that most people just see water. I actually view it for what it really is: slimy, dark blue, and disgusting. In my first three years I never noticed the colour, (but drained the cup of "water" out of pure disinterest and fatigue with simple slurps) the taste, or anything in particular, until I actually examined it in my fourth year, when I was dying of boredom from the opening ceremony. It turns out, the drink makes you do all sorts of mad things… or I guess you could say Slytherin-like things. It makes you see the world the way a Slytherin—according to most people—should. This potion was invented in the second year of Hogwarts in the Who-Knows-What-Hundreds.

I could see it affecting everybody. Everyone was exceptionally evil and cunning in whatever activity they decided to pursue. Heavens forbid the potion will last until the "Pre-Sorority Party". It's initiation night for the fifth years and up. We have all sorts of drinks and crazy magical snacks from the Weasley twins' store; we have karaoke and shots, we play Spin the Wand, and Fact or Act, of course.

Naturally, each game has its own type of magical twist to it.

Basically, this is what the Slytherin house calls the Pre-Sorority Party (otherwise known as PSP.)

I could see Hazel becoming an absolute impractical monster due to the drink. She seemed like an absolutely normal and somewhat kind girl, but then this drink started fogging her brain, turning her into someone I believe everyone can notice is unlike her if they know her long enough. Her posture was recomposed into a sitting position that demanded attention, her jungle eyes were sparking with evil green light, and even the way she ate her food seemed oddly neglecting to mimic her character. And even though I probably knew her for six minutes—I'm undoubtedly exaggerating. I knew her for a few hours, but… oh, you know what I mean—I noticed all these changes. Yes, the effects of the drink was, is, and will be that visible.

By the time we finally managed to arrive at the Slytherin common room at the most southern part of the castle, I believe that at least ninety-percent of us were so full of food we could barely walk. Or so I thought.

We went inside, threw our shit on the ground, and that's when the party started.

The cold grey floors all consisted dark shadows dancing on them. The dark shadows mostly came from the enormously gigantic windows and green crackling fire. The kids that weren't allowed to the party were mostly dragged upstairs to their dorms because of their exhaustion from the day, but in our minds the night was young. The best parts of these kinds of parties are the feelings you get when you're in them. You feel euphoria, or maybe just a sugar rush, experience the feeling of being infinite, and you can't stop yourself from doing something stupid.

I was so delighted to be back into this dark and expectedly ominous place, that when the blaring rock music came on, the well-known Slytherin grin spread across my face, and I danced with probably everyone in the room. We were all hot a sweaty; all of us breathing down each other's faces like snarling and growling dogs. The music style reminded me of the live concert during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and unsurprisingly, most of us were singing—or more like screaming—along with the hard rock tune.

The lighting was mostly provided by the disco ball someone conjured to the ceiling. Bare skin of shoulders and thighs were being revealed by countless members of our community, but again, none of this was surprising; more like expected. People flicked their wands from left to right, adding all sorts of things to the common room the teachers would've murdered us for if they saw us doing so. I was getting far too drunk than any twentyish man should've been during a school-night and weekday, but I was most definitely the last form being the only one. My sight was commencing into blur, people started to become shady, and my brain felt fuzzy.

It was exhilarating.

Green, pink, and purple lights were flashing on everything around the room, making it seem as if it were a club of some sort. The furniture was somehow gotten rid of, and a polished, devilishly dark dance floor was coating the Slytherin house's first floor. Two out of the four corners of the room had bars shining into people's faces, hypnotizing them to "just get one more." The bass of the music started vibrating off the floor and walls, right into everybody's bloodstream, where it influenced all of us to appreciate our resonating world even more. I practically began fancying everything in this room.

Speaking of fancy, where in the devil did Greens disappear to? If she missed PSP it is guaranteed she will be put into the lowest depths of the Slytherin hierarchy.

My drunken body abruptly turned away from my dance partner, and my eyes, which were buzzing high on alcohol, inspected the room up and down, searching for the blond. Though I couldn't find her after scanning the boisterous room numerous times, I figured I'd chat with my clique, wondering how their lives have been like during the summer. It was always something I rather enjoyed, learning about others' lives. I found my gang in the middle of playing Fact or Act. I also found the person I went looking for in the first place. Hazel was laughing with her mouth wide-open, her features mangled by her shaking, purely joyful laughter. I furrowed my eyebrows. I've never quite seen someone laugh so fully happy. Or maybe I did. Nevertheless, I was sure it reminded me of something by the sickening, though sweet, joy she was radiating, but I couldn't quite place it.

That's when I realized I was completely glued to the spot where my drunken eyes first discovered the location of Greens, and I was simply an awkward body in a maze of people leaping up and down. I glanced at the girl I was previously dancing with, gave her a sort of a nod, and walked away. It wasn't really as rude as I thought it would be. The nod kind of made it seem like I was thanking and appreciating her for her time, even though she probably couldn't care less who or what she was dancing with, as long as she wasn't dancing alone.

It took me eons to even start roaming in the right direction of the band of Fact or Act players. I kept running into dazed and rather frightened Fifth Years, who seemed confused and alienated from their elders. I tried the easiest thing my tired brain could come up with: shuffling in a straight line, but it seemed like the most impossible thing to me, even without the bumping into people part. Thinking was also in the category of impossible—or, the absolute truth is, the impossible was the thinking that actually wasn't continual babbling about my abilities and disabilities.

Somehow I managed to take a few steps towards the right direction, and before I knew it, I was heading towards Greens without creating a pace that wasn't stabilized, but acceptable. I reached the group of Slytherins that were either too drunk or too high to even bother to manage a grunt or somewhat acknowledge my presence, but I didn't mind. I simply wanted to join the game, and most importantly, see what mysteries this Hazel girl was cloaking.

"Alright, settle down already!" yelled Blaise, as he also, seemed very interested in uncovering mysteries. However, he just wanted the mysteries of others, not Hazel's. That's why we're friends mate, I thought. Then I stopped in mid-thought, and cautiously investigated whether or not I should call Blaise a friend; even on Draco Delta. I came to the conclusion that Slytherins don't really have friends. They could more rather be described as an associate-like, beneficial companion. No hard feelings or deep strings attached.

"Blaise, you are aware of the fact that it is your turn, correct?" Greens giggled. Giggled? Oh, great. A laughing and smart-ass drunk. Brilliant.

"No, it's not. I remember perfectly that we were going clockwise," countered Blaise, circling his hands in a counter-clockwise motion, as he tried to make his point.

This time, Greens positioned her face towards the moon, and laughed so hard her body was an erupting, shaking volcano. She pointed out Blaise's mistake, in a quite know-it-all way, and told Blaise that no matter how stupid his ways of explanation, the group was in fact playing the game by going around clockwise for each member to participate. All the parties in the uncomfortably close circle cheered, for they finally solved the impossible riddle, and asked Hazel the question. "Fact or Act?" Pansy asked eagerly.

"I'm feeling good about tonight," stated Hazel. Then, she began to whisper, "You all are witnesses of an exceptionally rare and unique occurrence," she started, her tone serious and mocking at the same time. It was obvious she was about to say "act" but no matter, Parkinson cut in.

"You mean people out mastering us in our vocabulary skills?" smirking or growling at Hazel's ability with words. "Oh, don't worry sweetie, all of us had that 'rare occurrence' happen to them at least five times in their lives before they learned not to expose how unintelligent they used to be. Now, some of us even read the dictionary to make sure we keep up the Pureblood honour." Greens furrowed her eye brows, indicating she wished to examine the issue, but shrugged it off, for Parkinson yet again managed to make it seem as if this girl was not capable of communication whatsoever except to imply she was interested in conversation.

"Well, all of us have been through that except Draco. He has always been quite intelligent. Some of his earlier childhood friends supposed he would make it to…" she shuddered, "Ravenclaw." Hazel looked offended, but Pansy gave a mischievous grin. "This brings me to my question. Which house do you believe you could've made it into if it wasn't Slytherin?" she asked terribly and frighteningly hungrily.

"But I didn't even have the chance to—" she began, confused by her inability to win a fight with Pansy, but then bit her tongue and cleared her throat. She seemed rather scared about answering this very straightforward and simple question. We all could tell something was wrong and that she wouldn't manage to answer the question. Then she initiated a few miss understandable words and mutterings such as, "Um… well, obviously there is no… khm, right answer… as in anything they would—oh, God, can't I just say what I actually would prefer to say?"

Though Greens was talking to herself, really, almost all of us could hear her. Pansy was clearly getting bored and frustrated fast. "Hazel, just answer the bloody question," she grumbled.

"I was placed in Slytherin in this universe, so I would've been placed in Slytherin in an alternate universe also," she claimed.

A grin started forming on my face. She did it. She made the cut for answering the "bloody question" correctly. Unlike most people, the Slytherin version of the game in quite simple: cunning and different, but simple. All one has to do, is pretend that the entire game is purely an innocent Fact or Act game with no twists involved whatsoever. However, as I mentioned before, this is initiation night. We are so to speak recruiting new members to the cool squad. My crowd. And Hazel bloody Greens managed to make it in. I would say looks could be deceiving, but Hazel looks just right for the role of Slytherin—well, she looks just right for anything, to be honest. But once one manages to get to know her the slightest bit, they find she's not the typical everyday Slytherin. Hell, she's not the typical anything.

Greens noticed our positive looks and grinned mischievously. "So, did I pass?"

Pansy looked the slightest bit surprised with shock, but I knew better. Greens knew how to take care of herself… or she just straight out knew everything once she landed on this planet called Earth. Pansy, unlike most of her popular friends back in the day, has failed to answer this question correctly. Though she answered Ravenclaw, the obvious answer as to why she didn't make it in to that House evilly chuckled as she revealed the truth about her suspicion. This was the reason she didn't make it into our crowd at first. Ever since then, she refused to enjoy Fact or Act, and her only goal was to have every person around her fail and feel the way she did.

It was all quite tragic.

No matter, she magically found her way to persuade herself into the desired social status. How she did it is quite the mystery to most folk around the school. But I was not the least bit surprised. What I mean to say is that this is Pansy we're talking about. She can practically manage to persuade anybody to do anything. If anyone felt as if the, '_Obliviate!'_ charm has been placed on them during their packing for their class, Pansy would be the first person to go to. She would simply walk up to the teachers and convince them to let us go grab our homework, or even to be excused from the assignment.

I shuddered at the thought of what distances she could've gone in order to get in with the cool kids.

Jumping back to the present, I noticed Pansy leaving the PSP. She was unmistakably angry about Greens "out mastering" her, so to speak. I wanted to scream back at her to, "Be a Slytherin about it," but then Blaise decided that it was time for Spin the Wand.

"Man, are you sure we should play this game? You know, with all these newbies in the room," I managed to scream across to Blaise, whom even in the tight circle could barely manage to hear me among the blasting speakers. And even if he heard me, he completely ignored the comment and asked Hazel for her wand.

"Why mine?" she questioned.

"I only figured the newbie would deserve the glory of the match-making wand," grinned Blaise with a wink.

Hazel couldn't reply much to that, so she set her wand in the middle of the circle and whispered a silent incantation.

"What the bloody hell was that?" I demanded, believing it to be some sort of dark hex that could cause more trouble than the game altogether manages anyway. I knew it was some type of spell because I read her lips; a task I had to learn during a part of my life when my father decided to burst my eardrum and not mend it for a month after my fifth year. I had to live with being deaf for about forty-percent of my summer.

However, Hazel never had to experience that, hopefully, so all she had to do was ignore me and pretend nothing happened.

Greens, with a swift and sudden move, spun her wand around on the floor, and we all waited enthusiastically for the results. The wand spun at a startlingly rapid rate, then carefully ceased to rotate, and landed on Sadie, her tattoo-like freckles splattered around her flushed cheeks. She was eyeing all the guys around the circle, briefly pausing at the ones she would never, even in her worst dream, snog.

The wand spun once again, this time its speed was created by Sadie herself, probably trying to make sure that no lame guy could be the one she'd have to be kissing with soon. The bottle didn't want to slow down no matter how hard Sadie concentrated on the one guy she had her eyes on. It took me a few looks, but then I noticed that I was the targeted individual. Um, please. No.

The wand finished its pirouette by landing on Crabbe, and I had to act as if I were coughing instead of snickering hysterically. This should prove to be interesting. The two let-down, disappointed, and balked students awkwardly crawled towards each other from one side of the circle to the other on their knees. Finally, trying hard not to touch each other more than necessary—probably hoping not to receive too much of the other's germs—they began their snog session. All the parties whom sat around the circle started howling in approval, and even a few dancers cheered. At last, the kiss ended and both Sadie Baldock and Vincent Crabbe scattered back to their original seats on the floor.

Countless times did Greens' wand twirl around in circles, but never made a match with the same gender for a forceful kiss. That, I am most certain, all of us appreciated. Goyle managed to get both the intimidating twins, the Carrows, Blaise snogged two girls I didn't know the names of, and I'm quite positive almost all of us went twice, when the wand pointed inarguably at me, clearly as day.

I reeled the wand to the right and waited, not bothering to be nervous about the outcome. The alcohol was playing far too many jokes on my brain for me to bother to be interested in anything at all. Well, there was one exception. Surprise, surprise, Hazel Greens looked up at me with an uncertain look across her face that immediately appeared as she saw that the wand decided to rest from his journey while pointing at her. That look washed away like the spring rain in the beginning of June, and probably due to the drunkenness and the blue and slimy drink the Slytherins had.

Hazel crawled over towards me on the floor and smiled a mischievous Slytherin grin. She reached out enthusiastically with her dark green-painted nails towards my shirt, tugged at it, pulled my suddenly surprised lips to hers, and started biting my lower lip. For a few seconds I was unresponsive, but then my brain yelled, "_DRACO. LIPS. MOVE!_" and I put my arms around Hazel as invisible sparks surrounded us. I traced my tongue around her lips and teeth, obviously sending shivers down her back. I felt warm butterflies trying to break free from my stomach. She groaned and opened her mouth. It was a whole new world to discover, and I knew as our tongues danced to a rhythm only we knew the beat to, that I wanted to reveal this dimension's mysteries.

HERMIONE

Though the cheers and the occasional wolf-like howls made me smile into the kiss, I was still snogging Draco Malfoy. I was straight out snogging the most annoying git among the universe in front of a crowd, and I didn't mind. To be honest, I rather fancied it. His lips were as soft as I imagined clouds to be, and the way he held me felt right. My foggy brain didn't like the idea of refusing pleasure, but I knew I had to stop this. Just because I can be honest with myself doesn't mean the least bit this is right. It was so wrong in so many ways. Not just that I hated him, but Ron and I didn't even break up yet. Sure, we were having a rough patch, but I'm sure both of us want to work it out. And yes, my mission is to keep him occupied and interested, but this was probably not what McGonagall had in mind.

Suddenly, the music stopped, everything went black, and even the green fire went out.

In the pitch black, Malfoy was still clinging onto my lips and sucking them, tugging at them hard as I tried to pull away. He had me stuck to him just like glue to paper. I felt like a punching bag as all the confused and momentarily blinded human beings bounced off of Malfoy and I, but it was still very hot.

Then I heard a loud _pop_ and Professor, or well, Headmaster Slughorn's voice erupted in the Slytherin common room. "_What are you ungrateful little snakes doing outside of bed at this hour?!_" he yelled, probably pointing a wand at his throat to amplify the noise. "_How could you lot not invite me?_" he asked with an almost hurtful look on his face. Wait. I know the girls said this has been tradition for years, but I was not expecting the professor to remember his time back in the day, much less show up here in hopes to relive that again.

Still glued to Malfoy's mouth, I decided I needed to end this never ending wrongfulness immediately.

I stepped away firmly, and though I heard the squishy noise that was alike to sucking in the air of a water bottle then letting go without any warnings whatsoever, I didn't bother to look back at Malfoy's face. I started my confident steps towards Professor Slughorn who seemed all too familiar with the dance floor. I only wanted to leave this party, but my steps simply directed me towards the Headmaster because I wanted to make him realise his mistake, or maybe I was trying to ignore mine. One or the other. I jiggled and slithered through the non-tiring crowd, and as I targeted Professor Slughorn, I noticed an impossibly bright shade of blonde hair tracing my footsteps. I will not deal with this right now, I told myself.

I made sure I was hidden from Malfoy and lost in the crowd before I stopped and greeted prof—Headmaster Slughorn. "Hermi—" he tried, but I cut him off with a soft kick to his knees. "Right. Excuse me," he whispered from the slight pain, a bit embarrassed by his childlike and forgetful behaviour. I wasn't surprised by his impossibly incautious nature. That's how I saw it with Slughorn: it is in his nature to be careless. It's like he never really grew up. He does have his serious moments, but so do we, youngsters.

"I simply wanted to ask you if you believe that this," I pointed around the room, mainly at his dancing abilities, "is a responsible choice for a Headmaster." I raised a questioning eyebrow. Though I knew I was being know-it-all Granger again, I also knew that because Slughorn already knew who I was due to him creating the helpful potion in the first place, there was no reason to hide the real Hermione. It felt great to release this side of me again.

He smiled sadly, apologized, and tried to explain himself.

I held my hand in the air, signalling him to stop and said, "You don't have to explain yourself to me, sir. I just wanted to shake you back into reality. You are a grown up and you are attending a secret party none of the professors are supposed to know about." From the worried look on his tired, sweaty face I quickly added, "I'm not forcing you to end the party because I know that would only make you feel guilty, so I'm only asking you to leave the common room and pretend as you never knew about this initiation PSP party." I smiled a warm smile, and turned a hundred and eighty degrees turn on my heel, but the professor gave me a pat on the shoulder before I could bother to leave.

"Would you at least have this drink with me?" he asked with eyebrows in the air. "You are, after all, of age." He winked playfully.

No smart reply came into mind, so I simply replied, "It would be my pleasure," even though this type of breaking the rules I didn't appreciate any more than the straight-up doing something bad kind of breaking the rules. I swallowed the burning drink and felt it find its way blazing to my stomach.

I shivered and made a disgusted face. The drink was stronger than I expected.

"Thank you," was all I said, and then I left, leaving the green disco lights, karaoke singing witches and wizards, snogging sessions, and the Slytherin Prince behind my hurried footsteps towards the girls' dormitory: to safety.


	4. Chapter Three - Humos Verdes

_**Hello everyone.**_

_**Yes, you have every right to be angry with me. I know this took long. The only good thing I can share with you guys is I've finished one fourth of the fourth chapter. 3/4 to go!**_

_**"Humos Verdes", for those who don't speak Spanish, means Green Fumes.**_

_**It was hard to decide the TSS for this Chapter, but I think I picked the best ones that describe the chapter.**_

**_TSS Part One: David Archuleta - Crush_**

**_TSS Part Two: Ellie Gouding - Love Me Like You Do_**

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE — HUMOS VERDES **

**HERMIONE**

His lips were on mine again.

I knew it was absolutely beyond the question that I was trapped, and I didn't want to escape. Something inside me whispered this was right, but the other seventy-five percent of my body yelled with a million exclamation marks that this was morally incorrect. But his body was so warm, and his lips were so wanting. His arms around me were like seatbelts; they made me feel safe. Most of the time I forgot about them, but then as danger whipped through my mind, I became aware of my protector once again.

I opened my eyes and pushed Malfoy away softly. "This can't happen again," I tried to make it clear.

"But it will," he answered. "You and I both know you can't stay away from me, Hermione."

* * *

I woke with a start.

I looked around, panicked. Adrenaline continually pounded through my veins as my worried glance searched the room I was in. My head was pounding and my throat was dry. As the headache eased, I came to my common senses. I was in my bed, in the Slytherin common room—which was empty—waking up from a dream I had about Malfoy. What happened last night? Why does my head hurt so much? Flashes of green light and rock music started materializing in my mind, fuzzy and hazy memories about laughing around a group of wizards also emerged in my head, and last but not least, a very interesting game of Spin the Wand—

Oh, God. Snogging Malfoy wasn't just a dream. This is not real. Why would I have done such thing? The memory refused to come back in HD, but I rejected the idea of giving up. I concentrated hard and made sure I had all the pieces of the puzzle organized before I started connecting the fragments to the complete picture. By then it was undeniable that I was the one who started it. I was the one who pulled his mouth to mine, I was the one who bit the other's lip first, and I was the one who smiled into the kiss first.

After that I remembered the feeling of regret. Somehow, I was sure that the feeling of regret didn't precisely come from the kiss. But what was it? I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated even harder. Why did I feel that way? I asked myself, and I gasped as an answer started forming in my mind which was pounding due to the hangover. When I pulled away from Malfoy to stop the nonsense, I felt sorry for doing so. I felt sorry! Why did I feel anything positive towards this immature grownup? He didn't deserve my empathy the slightest bit. As a matter of fact, he didn't deserve anything coming from me.

I wanted to understand my motives.

Considering that during this specific evening I was probably drunker than any homeless man, my mind was most likely wild and crazy. Decisions in situations such as that usually don't come from the logic people like to use daily. Besides, everything I did was so unlike me, I probably did everything that deep down I never wanted to.

I sighed and pushed my covers back. I walked into the bathroom and started what soon I came to realize will be my daily routine. I drank the Poly Juice potion, got my contacts into place, and put on my Slytherin uniform. The image in the mirror seemed so alien. I felt lost just by walking around, knowing that nobody knew who I truly was, but when I saw myself the way everyone saw me, I didn't know if I knew who I was any longer. I wasn't sure if I found my true self or if I lost it.

I furrowed my eyebrows and stuck my tongue out, and I didn't really bother to calculate the level of child-likeness this act was afterward. I started thinking that once Draco Malfoy is on the clear, I would be free to leave and start my life. Then a frightening thought hopped into my mind. What if I was forced to stay the entire year? What would it be like to not be myself for an entire school year? How would I manage not to lose who I was during the process? Could I stay clear from a split-personality disorder? Would I manage to stay sane?

I came to the conclusion that discussing this matter with myself was not going to lead me towards the right path titled 'staying sane'. I wanted to pack my bags and leave this hellhole without creating any major conflicts. Who am I trying to fool? I already created a major conflict.

Now this issue I had to pursue. I needed to come up with a plan that will solve this Malfoy problem. I ran my sleepy fingers through my silky blonde hair, trying desperately to come up with any type of strategy that I could think of. But no matter how hard I tried, every scenario seemed to put a particular finger in the air and tell me to 'never try this plan again'. I angrily applied makeup to my face, wishing I could just use a hint of eyeliner and mascara and be done with it. Of course, being a Slytherin made everything five times as more complicated as life needed to be, so I had to exaggerate everything about my fake character.

After I heatedly marched out of the bathroom, I bitterly threw my hairbrush into a drawer, and furiously jumped into my bed again. My back created a mess from my already disastrously untidy bed sheets, but surprisingly, that was the last thing that worried me. Even the structured and organized part of me seemed to have evaporated. My palms covered my eyes, trying to reach deep into my brain, hoping to dig out something useful, but Hermione Jane Granger was out of ideas.

Another great place to start firsts.

I rolled onto my stomach on the bed, wishing last night never happened, even though I knew I was only wishing that the outcome wouldn't've been so complicated.

* * *

For my first two classes I simply didn't show up to. I didn't see the point of showing up to a lecture where I wouldn't be able to comprehend a word the professor might be saying. Hangovers worked that way.

Instead, I was roaming about the dorm room, wondering why things were so different in this house than it was in Gryffindor. Sure, the two houses weren't only rivals, they were complete opposites. For whatever Slytherin stood up for, Gryffindor sat down. It was simply a natural instinct. Whatever Slytherin owned black in, Gryffindor made sure they had white for it. The same goes for the contradicting side.

The girls' dormitory was on the left, and the boys' was on the right, instead of the other way around. The room seemed as if it was more than one area. Multiple silver hued columns added circular effects to the capacity of the space. All the beds were arranged like petals around these cylinder-like walls, creating yet another effect of obliqueness. Everything was coated in the Slytherin colour spectrum: green, silver, and black, and medieval snakes were painted on every object in the area, mostly the walls. Laced night lamps were provided next to each bed, and all the tables they've been placed on had structured patters neatly painted on them.

Actually, these weren't structured patterns. Until now, I believed the nightstands to all have the same black scribbles on them, but it turned out that where my scribble should've been was empty. I went around the room, examining what exactly these scratches of fancy black were. I went to the closest one near my own bunk, and intently studied it. The multiple scribbles were clear once one could inspect them well enough. 'Hestia Carrow – Status Two' the black ink explained.

That did not disclose or clarify much, so I decided to move along and read the rest. 'Flora Carrow – Status Two', 'Sadie Baldock – Status Two', and 'Pansy Parkinson – Status One'. I wasn't sure what to make of this. It seemed as if this numbering was counting something about the person, I just couldn't make up my mind about what. I haven't had the slightest idea of what these Statuses possibly could've meant.

I bit my lip, and circled my way back to my own bunk, and examined the bedside table of my own once again. It was simply out of curiosity; just to make it clear. I nictitated my eyes at the green and wooden substance, and let my fingers trace the spot where the neatly painted dark-inked phrase should've been. I wrinkled my forehead in confusion. Why isn't there anything happening at all?

"I wouldn't touch that if I were you." I jumped at the sudden and unexpected female voice. I turned around, shocked that anyone would be out of class on the first day of school—besides me of course; I _am _an actual exception. The voice belonged to the greatly beloved Pansy Parkinson. Oh, the absolute joy I was experiencing.

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't you want to touch it?" I questioned. "It is only a nightstand. There is nothing truly special about it." I raised my eyebrows in a questioning way. Was there anything to know about these pieces of furniture besides that they were made out of wood? Did Parkinson know why the black ink was not present on my night table?

"I am quite positive that you don't believe a word you just said," Pansy added, before she answered my unasked questions. "You're one of the new students. If you would've wandered around longer, you would've noticed that the new members of the Slytherin house also don't have the Ink-Mark on their bedside table."

Ink-Mark, huh? Well, at the very least it is not the Dark Mark.

"The ink marks what part of the status-quo you're part of in the Slytherin hierarchy. Here," Pansy walked over to her own nightstand. "See? It says my name and that I'm Status One."

"What is Status One exactly?" I asked.

"It is the top rank. It's where all the popular Slytherins belong to." She sighed in a quite disappointed way. Parkinson ran her thin and pale fingers unconsciously across her head, brushing her hair. She stood a little too confidently. Her shoulders seemed to be pushed too far back, her neck was stretching a few centimetres longer than most people's, and her stomach seemed to be recognisably, forcefully, and unnaturally flat.

"Is it alike to the military, then?" I questioned, incapable of comprehending the words. Could the Slytherin house also be compared to a prison?

"I imagine you could say so," Parkinson muttered, her expression stating she was confused. "Who was so disappointingly sloppy? Who was assigned to you, Greens?" Her muddy-brown eyes gripped onto my soul, wondering what it would see if it kept holding on.

"What do you mean?" I asked, puzzled.

"Who was the one that was in charge of explaining all the rules and guidelines to you? She must've forgotten. Those little prats. Why can't they fulfil a simple damn task? What do I even expect from these idiots? They bring shame to the line of Slyther—"

"Parkinson!" I exclaimed. I couldn't truly fathom the Pureblood pride. To me, for obvious reasons, it was a too foreign concept to grasp and interpret. "I believe I did just fine without this… accompanier that you speak of. And from what I gather, it seems as if they wouldn't've been much help anyhow." I raised a questioning eyebrow, probably seeming confident, even though I somehow always felt intimidated by Pansy Parkinson. I did have my reasons for feeling that way, but she wasn't so bad if she didn't figure you to be anyone besides a witch or wizard from her house.

"We need to get you one anyway. And we need that specific someone fast." She turned on her heel, rushing out the room, but stopped, halfway out the door. "What?" she asked, for I called after her.

"Pa… nsy," I started, getting used to not being too formal with my soon-to-be Friends Forever. "Can't I simply receive a 'guiding friend' so to speak?" I asked, honestly curious about the answer. I knew friend was an uncommonly used noun in the Slytherin tongue, but I refused to accept that they resisted acknowledging this word whatsoever.

"No," Pansy answered, with a tone that made it clear I wasn't supposed to ask un-Slytherin like questions. In Pansy's mind, it probably convinced her even more to get me an elf to help with my to-do list. "Maybe?" she considered. She seemed so conflicted. In the end, that wrinkled forehead of hers ironed out into a smooth, steady line, and the worry ceased to be on her face. "I've decided," she shrugged. "I will be your Cofragin for now, alright?"

"I'm sorry, a…" but then I realised that 'Cofragin' was the specific word these emerald snakes called the guiding helper I was oh-so destined to own.

"Alright, Pansy," I nodded to her, decreasing the distance that stood between us with my steady and confident steps. Once I reached acceptable speaking distance I looked deeply into her eyes and said, "Be my Cofragin then."

* * *

**DRACO**

Opening my eyes this morning was so delightful, that I didn't even mind showing up to my classes, for the first time in ages, I might add.

Oh, no, not today, Draco. None of the bloody Draco Delta sightseeing you love so bloody much. You had your twenty four hours of shit, but now you need to get your shit together for real, man.

Split personality disorder, you ask? I believe it is always a probability.

Where the hell was Greens? Did I misjudge her so, that she'll turn out to be a drinker and a ditcher? Oh, dammit.

The drinks bought back the tiny and feeble images of last night. Everything was naturally foggy and blurry, but I didn't have any blackouts. I remembered the heavy drinking and all the dancing I was involved in, but the only thing that is clearly tattooed in my brain is snogging bloody Hazel Greens. Why did I have to fancy her so fast? Couldn't've the world waited a wee bit longer? Is that so damn much to ask?

I didn't want to own any of my feelings to her, even if she was someone that, rank-wise, was sort of perfect. I wasn't precisely sure why I didn't want a woman in my life at the moment. I didn't really want to bring anyone all the trouble I dragged around in a huge suitcase with me. People deserve a thousand times better than Draco Malfoy. That is something I do know for a fact.

But I also know for a fact that I want Hazel. I truly do want her. It is something I can easily cover up on the outside, but I don't want to pretend any longer. I need someone to fix me up. I need someone who can heal me in a way. I'm wounded physically and emotionally, and I need some sort of treatment for both of these injuries. If it is Greens who can provide me with such medicine, then who am I to command her stop?

I kept thinking back to those moments when our lips attached. Our mouths danced to the rhythm of the music; it felt as though they were stapled together. Hot air surrounded us, and electricity was knocking on our door. We blindly opened it, and let the sparks fill our bloodstream. The moaning and thrilling joy I witnessed at that moment, when the world seemed to disappear and it was only Hazel, was inexplicable.

I wanted to get back to that moment and witness it all over again. I wanted to relive the entire thing, but also make it into something new. I needed this change. I was a little too enthusiastic to believe that Hazel was cure to all of my terrors.

The first day of my classes seemed to be flying by without any pauses; an over-fuelled bird, travelling to Africa. I daydreamed seventy-nine percent of the time, answered annoying and stupid school questions eleven percent of the time, and spent the last ten percent making fun of idiotic people I loathed. I felt defensive, alright? There was no way in hell I was going to let anyone realise how large my soft side has become. Time to recollect my title: The Slytherin Prince.

I grimaced. It seemed so stupid now. The Slytherin Prince. This reminded me of the first draft of a cruel nickname. It would've probably grown and expanded into something that I would've hated with a passion.

The final class I was dismissed from was Divination, and I was finally free to roam the warm and still green hills of Hogwarts. I needed to take a walk as soon as accomplishable. I needed fresh air so that I could clear my head.

I raced down the stairs, barely noticing the morbid mosaic windows placed on the right side of the spiralling staircase. I pushed and shoved, yelled and criticised, and before I knew it, I was out the door, strolling across the beautiful, summer-lingering forest. Yes, I avoided the Forbidden Forest, thank you very much; I was currently taking a hike on the opposite side of the compass. This particular forest seemed to be so artificial because of its impossible collection of the types of trees, but the woods still had the radiance that yelled, "I am real, and you better believe it for your own good."

The forest was soft, greenish and brownish all over. It had occasional pale and tan tree trunks or thin and fat ones. Some leaves were coated in pumpkin-coloured paint, and others were dipped in frog slime. This forest contained Walnut Trees, Cherry Trees, Evergreens, and one Willow Tree. That one was my favourite. It wasn't the Whomping Willow, just to make it clear—anyone who has the capacity to even feel compassion towards that monstrosity has serious mental problems. This Willow Tree wasn't enchanted, as far as I knew. It felt as if it had some unmasked powers, but like I said before, I wasn't aware of such thing.

I pushed the thin and fragile branches of the ancient Willow Tree, stepping into the radius of the radiating magic. I found my way to the trunk and swiftly sat down, resting my head against the rough frame of the tree. Coming here to relax was the best way I knew how to get away from everybody. I was incapable of surviving another minute around people. I needed some time alone, because no matter how much I loved company, one time a day it was pure need that drives me far from the human race.

Should I even bother, really, to think about Hazel?

No, my brain immediately answered. I honestly didn't feel like listening to my right mind on this marvellous autumn afternoon. I considered the risk that she wouldn't feel the same way, even after the kiss. I could live with that, I thought. I also over analysed the idea of how people would view me if I asked out Hazel. They would judge, of course, just as every ordinary human being does, but they would get used to it. I wouldn't cause any conflict towards the status-quo, I would be happy, and I would also be free of approval.

I sighed. I started to imagine what it would be like to walk down an empty hallway with her, while skipping class, and explaining to her what things I've been through. I pictured her shocked and horrified face, but then I saw the compassion and understanding slowly unravelling amongst her features. I've bloody made up my mind.

I stood up, combed the sweeping branches of the Willow Tree to the side, and started kicking the twigs on the forest floor, making my way towards Hogwarts.

* * *

**HERMIONE**

"Let me get this straight, then," I addressed Pansy as I tried to grow close to the idea of having a dog-owner relationship with someone. The only trouble was that I was the dog. "You are my Cofragin by title, but don't truly do anything, unless I stumble upon the specific thing?" I knew there had to be some sort of catch.

"Or ask directly, yes," Pansy's answer arrived. "I'm here to help you through the maze of the Slytherin life, not show you the way out. That is just ridiculous."

"This is ridiculous," I clarified.

"Maybe so, but no matter how much you dislike it, I'll still have to do it."

"But why?" This is getting worse and worse by the second.

"You'll find out," her reply came vaguely.

"You just said that if I ask something directly, I get a bloody answer," I pointed out, frustrated. God, can't these people make school any more complicated? I'm sure my stress level of twelve is not the expected, and we're talking about my social life, much less the school work.

"Look, Hazel," Pansy didn't want to make this easy, but I could tell she didn't hate me the way she did in the beginning. "The house of Slytherin…" she started uncertainly, "It has so much more to offer than any of the other houses. I understand if you think I'm simply too proud and probably biased, but trust me," she shuddered at the thought of trust, "I do have your…" another shudder, "Best interest considered, alright?"

I was unprepared for the sudden emotional shift in the crowded corridor as which we were walking on, but I undertook it easily. Challenges are my specialty, as always. At least that I'm not insecure or uncertain about.

"Alright." I really hope and wish everything to be alright.

"Hazel," she turned towards me. "Would you mind it if we looked for Draco? I heard about the occurrence during the party. I just wondered if I'd be too hostile if I asked you to help me search for the bastard."

"Hostile? You, Pansy? Never." We laughed at that.

She actually cared about my wellbeing.

What is happening to the world? Did I see everything wrong, or does the world really show a different side when people don't get to know them? To me, this wasn't a rhetorical question. It wasn't rhetorical, because it wasn't a question. I had the bloody answer; I just didn't fancy the outcome of my research. I wanted to pull every string, look under every rock, and investigate as many experiments as possible before I am two thousand percent positive that I've questioned every existing thing to receive the final answer.

So we went for the search of Draco Malfoy.

* * *

Don't misunderstand me, please. It wasn't as if I wanted to see the boy… the man—I'll have to get used to that one—I snogged not only a few hours ago, I just wanted to know how this occurrence effected or impacted him. I knew for a fact it impacted me; I wanted to see if he had anything to add to that. Malfoy wasn't someone whom I believed to be honest about his feelings—mainly because I rejected the idea of him having feelings—and I figured he would never be truthful to himself. I always assumed the first step to sincerity was being conscientious. I didn't know if Malfoy was regretting, laughing, or slightly thinking about what happened last night. I didn't know what to think about it. Yes, I did kiss Malfoy. But Malfoy kissed me back.

No, he kissed Hazel back, my head pointed out. He would've never even gotten close enough to your filthy mudblood mouth to smell lipstick on it. I knew my head had a point. It wasn't worth the trouble. What isn't worth the trouble? What am I even thinking about? This is nonsensical. Malfoy and Hazel kissed, but that has nothing to do with me. I am not Hazel—I think. My point is that Hermione and Malfoy would've never kissed. It is not something the universe would've expected or even thought about.

Pansy and I finally made it outside. I breathed in the fresh autumn air, and let the sun rays dance on my cheeks as I closed my eyes in pleasure. I smiled into the lively world around me. Pansy mostly ignored my reaction. I quickly regained my composure and went back to being a boring, bitchy Slytherin. Pansy kept looking back to a certain spot in the woods that I've never been in. I wondered why she would ever think Malfoy was going off for a walk after a long day of school.

To my jaw dropping surprise, Draco Malfoy strolled out of the forest as if he were leaving a football field he achieved victory on. He seemed determined but calm. His dark robes flying lazily around his ankles, Malfoy took determined steps towards us, and I started having doubts. What would happen if he got me alone? Would he want to talk about what happened, or will he treat me horribly because he doesn't want to talk about it? None of these options seem pleasing.

I noticed Malfoy's hair free of gel. It seems as if the lifestyle he led after the war served him well. I had to admit he wasn't the Draco Malfoy Harry, Ron, and I knew back in our Hogwarts years. He didn't act, speak or do anything the way I knew Malfoy to be like. Why was I convincing myself he changed, you ask? I wish I knew the answer.

"What do you want, Pansy?" Malfoy asked in a terribly impolite way. He spoke before he decreased the distance between him and Pansy, and he didn't even bother to greet us.

"Oh, so you're back to being an arse, Draco? It's so delightful to have you back," Pansy's snappy reply arrived. If raised my eyebrows. I didn't like the direction this conversation was headed. My data collecting brain cells however, rejected the idea of pausing or leaving the conversation.

"I said get to the bloody damn point, Wallflower, or I will hex the life out of you," clarified Malfoy, creating a visible crack in Pansy's shield of 'I don't care'.

"Say whatever you want, Malfoy," Pansy replied anyway, "I'm still the one who makes the rules." I didn't know what to make of that. Pansy had more power than Malfoy? Why didn't I know that? McGonagall has surely done her research exquisitely and without flaw, I added sarcastically.

"Fine," he replied, bowing his head in defeat. He sneaked a speedy glance at me. Our eyes locked and my heart started racing. I wasn't prepared for that. In fact, I wasn't prepared for anything. "Tell me what you want."

"Why didn't you assign someone for Hazel?" Pansy asked, making it seem as if missing the point to her question about my Cofragin was impossible. I miss judged the plight entirely yet again, because Malfoy had an immediate answer.

"I told you I thought it was useless, pointless, and plain idiotic a long while ago. You knew I didn't complete that job in my seventh year either, when I started protesting against it, and I haven't been assigned as the official Matchmaker since I came back. I believed to be free at last. I see I was mistaken." Malfoy raised his palms facing us, making his posture seem alike to a surrendering criminal. He tried to hide a mischievous grin. "I see you haven't bothered to worry about the Matchmaking. It seems as if you've had the entire circumstance planned and strategized out to perfection."

"Idiot," Pansy started. "That is why I came to you," she explained. "If you would've assigned her someone—"

"Greens will do just fine without an unwilling bodyguard surrounding her for her entire first year in school, being a sorry excuse for a stalker. Hazel does not need babying." Malfoy said this entire sentence completely avoiding my gaze.

"You and I both know that even I—"

"Needed someone to change your diapers? Yes, Pansy, you and I both know that. That is because you were a tiny prat who had no clue about the bloody world. Hazel—"

"Wait a second," Pansy cut him off by raising a hand. "You were the one who was supposed to be her guide, weren't you?" she asked, certain of the answer. I could see it in her eyes. She had something absolutely figured out. She had the entire scene rapped around her pinkie because there were no mysteries to stop her now.

Malfoy couldn't stop his gaze snapping a look into my eyes and back to Pansy's. He crossed his arms around his body in a protective position, and made a disgusted face. "Yes," was all he said.

"But you kissed her! You idiot! You kissed her without coming up with any sort of questions or clarifications—"

"It was just an innocent game!" Malfoy tried to calm her. He was visibly uncomfortable by that point.

"Do not give me that crap. You know that is against the rules!" yelled Pansy.

"Since when did Slytherin keep rules over instinct?" Malfoy barked back. "Plus, you're acting as if this was our second year in this school. Rules don't apply to us anymore. We are between teachers, grownups, and students. The possibilities are never ending. The spectrum of our options should be infinite. Pansy, you're constantly trying to make it as if nothing has changed since we've last been here. I don't care what the hell you do as long as you keep me the hell away from it. I want a normal, satisfactory year that isn't going to be about how you want things to go down." Malfoy looked hesitant, but then also added, "I've made it clear I've had enough of that last year."

Pansy drew in an unexpected breath. She was clearly not prepared for that question. She looked hurt, sick, and heartbroken.

Oh.

Malfoy broke up with Pansy not too long ago. Well, that does explain a few things. Pansy's hate, Malfoy's constant caring towards her no matter how much they fought, and their inexplicable friendship-like relationship; it was all made clear now.

* * *

**DRACO**

I wasn't sure what to say or do to Pansy by that point. My only bloody excuse was leaving Draco Delta. There shall be no more compassion or genuinely shared feelings whatsoever. I played a few possible scenarios through my head, but all of them seemed to backfire. I came to the conclusion that I've said all I've needed to say, and now it was time for Hazel and me to discuss things. Oh, please, just let me have the courage to blurt this out without making a complete idiot of myself.

"Greens, I need to show you something," I said to the ground. I turned around and started walking back into the forest.

"You better not take her to our tree!" Pansy desperately yelled back.

I chuckled. "Don't worry. There are plenty of trees that I have in mind that seemed to be free."

Pansy threw her arms into the air by frustration, and then she stomped away, envious.

As unnoticeably as possible, I tilted my head the slightest bit to see if Hazel was following me towards the forest. She was trudging after me dastardly. I sighed and turned my face towards the path I was leading Hazel down on. I knew I needed to show this to her, but that was not my true intention.

"What tree was she talking about?" Hazel skittishly asked, still lagging behind me.

I thought about being a respectful Cofragin and letting her experience it on her own, but I already had a clear idea about the stupid system. "Have you ever heard of Ghoul Garners before, Hazel?" I asked and my voice was somehow warm. I wanted to be gentle with her, but I didn't want to show my soft side to her either.

"Yes." Of course she has, I thought to myself.

"Then you are familiar with the idea that these trees keep the ghouls of the people whom wish to stay in them?"

"Like I said, I know what they are. Ghoul Garners preserve wanting souls within their trunk, maintaining life for the dead." She knew the entire story, of course.

"Is there any selection amongst the deceased or do all of them go wherever they please?" I questioned her, hoping that my time for the spotlight would come.

"Of course there is a selection, Malfoy. The tree only accepts the dead whom marked their name on the tree's bole during the human's lifetime."

"Pansy and I marked our name on the bole of a Ghoul Garner. We wanted to stay together after death. Or at least I thought we did," I quickly added. The entire situation was so complicated now. I stopped in front of the majestic, magnificent, and massive oak tree. Hints of whispers embraced the late afternoon atmosphere, forcing the hairs on my back to stand on end. I exhaled deeply when I saw all the Slytherin ex-couples marking their names on the tree's trunk.

I didn't notice that Hazel caught up with me distance wise. She stepped closer to the tree and accidentally brushed my shoulder with her elbow. The electricity in the air sparked and shocked me repeatedly. I tried to slow my breathing, but when I heard her correspondingly unnatural breathing tempo, I couldn't maintain self-control much longer.

I grabbed Hazel and slammed her against the two metre wide tree with retractable power and lesser amount of force. Her platinum blonde hair swam through the wind as she swirled around to face me. I heard her surprised and supressed yelp, but it wasn't from panic. We stood there, pressed against each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. We arrived to appoint where we were breathing each other's exhaled carbon dioxide because of the impossible closeness. By then I had to make some sort of noise, for the sake of accomplishing one simple task: avoid staring at Hazel's full and rosy lips. She kept biting them.

"Please," I breathed quietly. "Say something," I tried, shrugging off the repulsive idea of how lame it sounded out loud.

Hazel's jungle green eyes searched mine with furrowed eyebrows.

She tried to decide on something.

I shut my eyes. This was the absolute definition of bonkers. I have gone mad. Hazel will never want me. During the PSP we were both drunk and made decisions we wouldn't've made sober. I was aware of that. I should've put that into consideration before I brought Hazel here. Now she will feel trapped. She won't know that she has a choice of leaving, and even if she does, she won't know how.

I kept my eyes closed. I didn't want to open them and face reality. I didn't want to see anything. I only wanted to feel one thing.

I felt something soft brush against my lips. Then, the lips of Hazel Greens started attacking mine a bit stronger with each movement. I sighed into the kiss and pressed her into the Ghoul Garner even more. I bit her lip and kissed her with all my desire I've been holding in ever since our lips parted. She groaned and pulled her hands up to my hair, pulling me closer through my straight blonde locks. She opened her mouth just the way she did last time, giving me permission to do whatever I pleased. A miniature grin started forming on the corner of my mouth, but then it quickly fell back into desire I still needed to release. Hazel felt the same way without question, because she wasn't scared to kiss me hard. She was holding back the way I was all day as well.

However, I did have to come to one conclusion.

We were too messy.

This would never work, and I was sure we both knew it. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself that we were good for each other, I simply knew I had too much on my plate, and she probably had a ton of things on hers too. We would have to figure out how to share the food, or how to evenly divide the plate into two hundred percent instead of our regular one hundred.

Hazel grabbed me by the shirt the way she did yesterday, and turned the ballgame around. She smashed me to the tree this time, and my only response was clinging onto her tighter. Her tongue traced the outline of my teeth, and then entered into my mouth again. I wasn't slacking either. My tongue found its way between Hazel's bottom lip and teeth, which left Greens sighing mindlessly into our heavy and hot snog.

I groaned and started kissing up and down her neck. Hazel was breathless. She let me trace my tongue in playful and ticklish movements, but before I could go any lower, she pulled my mouth back onto hers and sucked on my bottom lip so hard, I was sure that was going to leave a three day mark at the very least.

Then Hazel suddenly froze to a stop and started running towards Hogwarts, grabbing onto her hair.

She was trying to hide it.


	5. Chapter Four - Thy Exquisite Planet

_**Please let's not waste time with me begging on my knees for apologies and all of you throwing rocks at me. I am sorry though. I'd give reasons if they weren't so pathetic and if they wouldn't sound like silly excuses. It's no excuse for being away for so long. However, I am back, so let's try and be happy about that, and also, let's read! I hope you guys will enjoy this.**_

**_Only one TSS for this chapter because I believe it to be perfect._**

_**TSS: Liz Phair - Why Can't I?**_

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR — THY EXQUISITE PLANET THEE HATH NAMED DENIAL **

**HERMIONE**

"Pansy!" I knocked on the still ever-depressed woman's lavatory door, which was actually _our_ door, meaning I should have been able to use the loo as well. "Look, I know that everything that happened four days ago certainly had harsh affect, but please…" I stretched my mind for the right words. "You've locked yourself in there since I came back, plus I'm begging you to let me get ready. Because number one, it is one in the afternoon, number two my bladder is going to burst, and number three, it is Sunday and I would like to go out somewhere."

No answer.

Sure, I could've gone to any other existing lavatory amongst the castle, but in a way, I became stubborn after my first week of Slytherin hood. But that meant I gained a few undesirable traits.

The frustration of a roaring wave crashed onto me, and to protect myself from getting too much salt in my nose, I turned my back to the green wooden entryway and allowed my back to slide down on the separating border line between Cofragin and… party? I sighed and watched the clock that faced me on a stand. It has been four days. I didn't speak to anyone, really, in four days. I didn't speak to Him for four days. I desperately tried not to think about Him for four days. And it has been four days since the potion that Professor McGonagall distributed to me found its way to function incorrectly.

That is the reason, yes, as to why I ran away. My hair started getting frizzy again. After a few minutes while I locked myself into… oh, right. I could not, because Little Miss Heartbroken couldn't come out of the loo.

I couldn't bring myself to explain to Him that I had to leave because I wasn't me. And of course I didn't. Malfoy would never keep a secret, especially not mine, and he would hate me forever. He hates me forever right now so that wouldn't change just because he'd realise I'm Hazel, would it? I kept forgetting me was not me, that me was the real me, and I believe it was and is understandable why I kept the status of "absolute confusion".

Thankfully, only three days ago, the curtains—who turned out to be trustable partners in crime—around my bed kept me safe from anybody noticing the gigantic hue exchange located on my head. I drank my potion that I kept somewhere safe (which I will not share otherwise it would not be safe; sorry for not trusting you), turned the lamp off, for it was night time by then, and after that I sobbed myself to a painful sleep filled with illogically heartbroken nightmares, that again, I would prefer to keep private.

I had a feeling Hazel was the heartbroken one, not Hermione. I couldn't make a distinction between Hazel and me anymore, and that bothered me. I believe I don't need any rational supporting facts for my emotions at the moment, for obvious reasons. I didn't know what Hermione was feeling. All I knew is that when Hazel saw herself in the mirror, she wished she could make herself look even better than she already had to raise someone's attention—because it's far too obvious that they tried to make Hazel equal to perfection anyway.

But of course that's ridiculous.

No matter how much Hermione wished her logic would stop her at the desired moment, she knew that her train of thought always led her to a sure stop when she thought about perfection: that it didn't exist. Common sense neglected the idea of it. Absolute perfection cannot exist unless absolute disaster does… which makes no sense because both of them, in a way, live amongst the other. But if we'd stretch the thought farther, neither absolute perfection nor absolute disaster is a true thing. The end of the scale doesn't exist, or at least humanity could not reach it. There always has to be a balance, and that is exactly what I was looking for between Hermione's feelings and mine. Or the other way around.

"Hazel, you will never understand what it's like to be me."

My thoughts were interrupted by the miserable, faded, and echoing voice of the Wallflower—whatever that means. I couldn't understand how Pansy of all people would wear the nickname as Wallflower, even if it wasn't a well-known thing.

I blinked a few times to jump back into the present.

"You've never been me before." I forced myself to choke down the sarcastic comment I would have preferred to add to that ridiculous statement. "I do not feel pleased with myself for being jealous of you." This came from the uncertain Pansy I have come to realise truly existed.

"Would you really be so cruel and make me ask it?" I questioned.

She made a sighing laugh-like noise and started explaining.

"I was jealous of you and Draco because, I know you probably figured it out—we have been together for a while but then he cut things off between us. I really thought I was over him. I loved that we stayed friends and I also thought I didn't want him back… but seeing him looking at you like that… it made me question every choice I made about him."

That shocked me.

I allowed the silence to fill the room before I hesitantly and most certainly not confidently replied, "How could we make you feel all this? Draco and me…" the words flowed so naturally and unnaturally at the same time from my tongue—even though I didn't want it to feel that way. "I don't think there's anything there. There is no _Draco and me _anyhow, if it makes you feel better. I don't think he even cares for me as a friend. And you saw how he treated me back there. He didn't even look at me."

"Oh, yes, he did," Pansy claimed knowingly. Attach a hint of sad humour and you'd have the right idea of her melancholy.

"But those weren't—"

"Weren't what? The usual, romantic and sweet looks that make you feel all happy and jumpy inside? Do you really expect that much from him? He is different, yes, but he is not one of the bad ones, contrary to what others might label him as. He is concerned about those labels, again, yes, but he doesn't let those labels define him, because he chooses his labels. Sometimes, his beliefs hold him back and he becomes either too stubborn, or surprisingly, insecure, but he will pull through all his struggles if he believes he'll find gold at the end of the rainbow." She paused to take a long breath. "I used to be that pot of gold." Another brief pause. "We both know who it is this time."

The door opened and I quickly bounced off the floor to face my… friend?

Pansy gave a miniature theatrical gesture, signalling and beckoning me towards the well-deserved and rewarding lavatory break. "It's all yours," was all she said. I wanted to talk to her, but I was done thinking about Him.

Even though right that second _Him_ was all I thought about.

* * *

**DRACO**

Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Professor Slughorn, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, I'm quite positive that girl is staring at me, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, ha, ha that idiot won't even make it to the—Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel,—Hospital Wing alive; he burned himself so bad with that potion, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel.

"Mr Malfoy?"

An old man's annoying and rather girlish voice interrupted my perfectly well-paid attention to… the class? Yes, of course, well-paid attention to the class; no distractions whatsoever. The additional favourites of the professor were requested to have class during Sundays as well, but I'm not exactly certain of the reason. I am doing great at this school thing, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, and I am even managing to stay on task and show up to everything placed on my schedules.

"Yes, Professor Slughorn?" I croaked as I corrected my posture from a camping and or sleeping position to a somewhat sitting one. I have not used my voice for a few days; it sounded rusty. I cleared my throat quickly and quietly.

"I asked you whether you believed that you were making progress, or if you were planning to experiment in the powerful potion of sleeping in my class. Surely, you could make that memory potion for me in a breeze in order for me to forget about this incident."

I sighed. No matter how innocent this man made himself look, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, he was still put into Slytherin for a bloody obvious reason. I tried to fix my mane into an acceptable "just woke up so suck it" hairstyle, but then quickly gave up and, Hazel, Hazel, Hazeled my way on and on during the period.

"Mr Malfoy?" the annoying bastard's voice arrived yet again.

"What now, sir?" I questioned, the frustration clearly sparkling in my eyes and tone.

"Are you honestly putting that herb," he pointed to some orange-looking lemon which I had difficulty believing it to be an herb, "with that one?" he pointed to another whatsit.

"Sir, my notion was that you wanted me to make a memory potion," Hazel.

"That is my concern. If you would have been paying attention," he came closer to keep this conversation acceptably private, "you would have surely noticed by now that everyone is making Poly Juice potions,—which you students get a _privilege _of creating, I might add—besides you." So he tricked me to believe he was being exceptionally nice and then stabbed me in the back with a horrible orange lemon. Thank you, professor. I truly do appreciate the ego boost, Hazel, Hazel. It was needed.

I managed a distasteful grimace which was intended to be a hostile smile. Maybe it turned out to be both, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, and Hazel. "I'll get right to it, Professor." As he turned, I noticed I forgot to even bring the horrifying book I owned. "Sir, could I have a potions book? I believe I forgot it in my trunk. I'm still getting accustomed to this Sunday School thing."

After I had that problem sorted out, I started by asking some prat what page we were on in our potions book, muttered an insult in reply, than quickly started chopping, gathering, and squeezing ingredients to the potion. Hazel. I examined the page carefully; reading between the lines because I knew Poly Juice could not have ever been created by following directions. This is why Snape appreciated me so much back when that nasty and greasy man was still alive. He knew I could think outside the box and not be bothered to examine why it has four corners.

Ha. Speaking of which, where on Earth is Miss Know-It-All Granger? I would've sworn she would come to repeat the year because she would rather die than miss her precious classes. My only suspicion in the past few years were, a: her sorry mudblood arse became far too thin, for the lack of parents does that to a human being, and, b: that she eventually starved to a cold and miserable death in the aftermath. The other, less logical, I might add, option I considered was that she went with Weasel and Potty-Potter to find a job. I did wish I had somebody who would've fought for the imaginary Student of the Year medal with me, the way Granger and I have so desperately cut at each other's throats for since the beginning of time.

Hazel, Hazel, Hazel.

_The Poly Juice potion should always be created, crafted, managed, used, engulfed, and or precisely discussed during the first two days of each week, _explained a shaky, inky, and most noticeably unprinted letters by the side of the "Poly Juice" page.

The melancholic pale Monday morning sun's rays shone through the window. We followed directions. It took looking at the first and last few pages of the book to realize the paper package belonged to the professor himself. I looked over the upcoming pages and noticed that some of the notes have been hexed by strong magic that would take weeks to find a counter curse for, and another few set of months to learn and master that spell. Hazel.

I was about to give up completely when the word Hazel echoed through my mind again. Peace, I see, is an incredibly hard thing to come by in this school. Anyway, just that one word, that one name forced me to want to be bloody better. I decided I wasn't going to give up on this mystery the way I gave up on Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel; HAZEL!

Aagh!

I bit my lip, embittered, and the sudden harsh movements crashed my body on the desk. I found myself in the exact same camping position, the way I was before I started attempting to actually do something right in my life, and of all things it had to be this nonsense. I groaned loudly. I realized that from my palms to my elbows the orange lemon's surprisingly pink juice was skating across my guiltless arm. For some reason it was not something I should have touched.

Burning pain took its agonizingly miniature baby ant steps towards my cells and veins, attacking and starting a screaming rap battle with every responsive messaging cell I owned. Before I knew it, noisy footsteps and smelly and sweaty hands started dragging me (or more like carried with a slight cent of dragging—Hazel—to the Hospital Wing.

Echoing footsteps' cacophony bounced upon my eardrums repeatedly, same with the worried whispers of worried witches and wizards. The surprisingly loyal and helpful group of students hauled me on and on through numerous corridors, and all I could think of was ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel.

Then something extremely bright came into focus.

That is when everything went black, Hazel.

* * *

**HERMIONE**

It was time to break the ice and the silence yet again, even though I don't think I broke it the first time.

"Wallflower, you would do better to yourself if you would start talking. As my Cofragin, you need to talk to me."

No answer.

Really? We're back to this?

"Fine. Then as my friend, we need to talk it out." An awkward silence followed. Progress.

Then a brilliant idea hit me.

"If you don't at least tell me where the name Wallflower came from, then I will blackmail you in any way I find possible. And you better not dare to think that just because you let me into our bathroom after numerous days that I will let you get away with everything so easily. You better start talking—otherwise I'll find a way to make you look real bad."

Pansy turned around and looked at me with a sad smile.

"Great job, Hazel. Now I can see why you were placed into Slytherin. At first I had my doubts, but you do truly have it inside you." I crossed my eyebrows for a brief second, and then I smiled back. I received a compliment from Pansy. Could the world get any better? Oh, yes it could—it just won't—in the history of time—ever happen with me. "Number two," there was no number one. She didn't state that my compliment was her number one. Anyway, "You can't blackmail me, Hazel. I've been through much worse than what you could dig up on me. But you're right. I do need to speak with you, because otherwise I'd be a disappointment for a Cofragin.

"The name Wallflower was the name people used to bully me with. I was on the lowest part of the Slytherin hierarchy. I was absolutely miserable and I had no future. My parents told me that if I don't turn my life around completely, I would not be welcomed back into the house. Welcomed? Please, their word choice couldn't have been more off. They did much worse, Hazel. But after that, I fought so hard for popularity, I would've done anything. And I did everything. Everyone in this school knew about my past, present, and future, but I earned their respect by how hard I worked and managed to do everything most people only dreamed or currently dream about.

"Third of all, don't ever ask me what I did. If you would've ever paid attention to any type of gossip in any form—newspapers, magazines, the pure word spread by mouth—you would know that I'm practically famous. Nothing anyone has ever found on me could harm me any longer. I have been a warrior for so long that the battles people thought they were calling me out for were really innocent challenges that I conquered in the flick of a wand. And after a while, I wasn't even alone. After a while, I had people who believed that I was a strong enough of a leader that I could lead an entire coven of people who were willing to fight alongside with me. Draco was one of those people. After a few months of becoming the leaders of this school, I asked Draco to go on a date with me, and we were together until this summer."

"Pansy, you don't have to—"

"He told me that I needed to get over my lust for power and want for a better life. Maybe he was right, maybe not, but I practically plugged my ears and sang nursery rhymes every time he experimented with such conversations. I was blinded by the need of getting all my control back, because the power I had in school wasn't the entire wizarding kingdom, and that was "the sky is the limit" for me. I understand why he broke up with me. I would've broken up with me too. But I didn't see the horrible girlfriend I was by that point. I became more selfish than I ever was, and I was completely oblivious to who I was.

"After I finished school, I had everything I wanted. I had parents, a house, family, friends, and a boyfriend—but the only thing that actually seemed to be real in my life, I ruined." Pansy let out a shaky sigh and snatched harshly at the unwanted tears that started racing down her cheeks with her fingers. She was so strong in ways I would've never guessed. But what surprised me most about everything she said was that I never noticed anything she said. Sure, I was busy being good, but how could I not notice such a major turn in Hogwarts? It all seemed surreal. Hermione Granger, not Hazel, _Hermione_, was missing a piece of a puzzle—even if it was a puzzle she never intended to put together.

Then we heard a loud _bang_, and the door to the girl's dormitory was opened. We quickly pretended like we were busy with doing—well, anything, but it seemed to be unnecessary to act normal. The reason for that was probably that something not normal has occurred. Girls' panicked voices started bouncing back and forth between them and the circular walls—which to be a hundred percent honest, gave great reception… a little too good reception.

"Did you girls hear?"

"He looked so pale!"

"I don't think he'll survive this time."

"His arm was dripping with all that juice!"

The excitement, worry, and adrenaline filled the room like air fills up the lungs, and I wished I could simply exhale all the worry out of the room with the same intensity it came with.

Thankfully, Pansy was present.

"Enough!" Everyone went silence. "I'm glad I at least didn't have to ask for silence." The girls let out nervous giggles. Wow. She really did have enormous amount of respect. "Who are you girls blabbering about?"

"Draco Malfoy, of course," replied one of the Carrows.

Panic shocked through Pansy… and me too. Happy now, world?

"What happened to him?"

"He touched the juice of a Le'Morange. Now he is at the Hospital Wing, unconscious."

I couldn't even bare to stand here and listen to these miserable idiots chirruping about poor Draco Malfoy and how he's probably oh so miserable in the Hospital Wing. How could they just stand there and pretend like nothing was wrong, or that they didn't care enough to go and see him? Shallow, idiotic, and embarrassing Slytherin girls.

I quickly ran up and down a few staircases and barged through the doors of the Hospital Wing.

"Madam Pomfrey!" I yelled, looking around in worry.

"Hermione!" she whispered from behind. I jumped in an adrenaline of fear, and then I quickly noted that she must have been part of the staff that we trusted. I could've guessed that. "You know how much I dislike it when students scream in my healing quarters," she informed me with a hint of worry in her voice.

"Of course. I'm sorry. I was only going to ask you if you still had the ingredients for the potion that can cure the Le'Morange poisoning."

"Why wouldn't I, darling? Am I not the most trusted and depended on nurse there is in this school?" I honestly couldn't answer her question, because I never really met any of the other nurses that were rumoured to be working here.

"Could I see Malfoy?" I asked. I tried to be as serious and business like as I could manage. I don't think I succeeded.

"That's what you're here for, aren't you?" It wasn't really a question. I understood that she probably knew I got a bit too attached to the prey I was supposed to hunt down. A hint of pink started forming at both sides of my cheeks.

"Why are you blushing, darling? Your duty is to keep an eye on Malfoy, and it is very honourable of you to keep up such good work even when he is unconscious. I'm glad that I was amongst those who voted for you."

That piece of information made me forget my embarrassment in an instant.

"Voted for me ma'am?"

"Most definitely. You must've been aware that you weren't the only candidate for the title of "Spy for Mr Malfoy". The staff had other students in mind as well, but because we couldn't decide between the last two, we went and took a vote. You, Miss Granger have won by two. The other candidate was probably a little bit less trusted than you were. I believed she would've done a fine job as well, but I had my doubts about her emotional stability. Not to mention the House she was in. That fact without question influenced my vote."

I blinked. I probably gained the status of shocked over the past few seconds in the blink of an eye.

"Anyway, the last bed at the right," was all she said, and then as I turned my head, she disappeared.

* * *

**DRACO**

Hazel, ouch, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, ouch, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, even bigger ouch, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, Hazel, definitely not a pleasant—ouch, Hazel, Hazel.

My head was throbbing and the brightness was still not gone since the first time everything went black. What's up with that? Can't this place afford curtains or something? I groaned loudly as I tried to turn to my sides. Sleeping on my back was always torture for me.

I was stubborn enough not to open my eyes right that second. Truly, it was a completely unnecessary act, but I felt happy and satisfied by somewhat striking against the better good of my body. Opening my eyes would've meant analysing the room, making sure my arm was still intact and in place, plus I'd even have to think about…

Great job, Draco. Now you've ruined the whole thing.

I opened my eyes, because I realized that the pointlessness was getting embarrassing and childish even if there was no one around to enlighten me about it.

Wrong.

"Hazel?"

The hazel eyes of the exceptionally attractive blonde Slytherin have been glued upon my silver ones. Hazel? Weren't her eyes green? An exceptionally jungle green, as a matter of fact, that couldn't be confused with any other colour. What in the name of all things breathing? I've been having daydreaming nightmares _and_ dreams of those eyes. I couldn't get that wrong, could I?

Hazel's expression seemed so hidden and statue-like that my mind quickly dumped anything besides the awareness of her presence out of both my earholes. These were one of those moments when I didn't even wish the school uniform's exile in order to have an excuse to look upon less loose clothes on the other gender. All I wanted—oh my wand. I need to stop with this cute nonsense. I need to be myself—or the self that I pretend to be. Am I pretending? Is it ridiculous that I don't feel like I know the right answer?

"Hi, idiot," she said with an almost angry stare. Somehow she seemed as if she couldn't be one-hundred percent angry.

Weird.

"How—" I tried to clear my throat so it didn't sound like I was dying and swallowing a horse at the same time. My heart started speeding on the highway when I thought about all the routes this sentence could turn to. I thought about the last time I saw her. The last thing we said to each other; the last act we both participated in together. Why did she run away? Why couldn't we talk about it at all? And most of all, why did I want to?

"Don't worry, you're probably fine. Obviously, with Madame Pomfrey taking care of you you'll be fine in about a few hours, but, also for the same reason, you'll be kept in here an extra day. Also, a huge portion of your arm was covered with Le'Morange, so the after effect of the medicine she gave you will leave you really moody. Sorry about that."

Hazel kept averting her eyes when she was speaking. She practically looked to every corner of the room except the one place I was in. The curtain didn't really make it easy for her, so eventually our gazes locked. Her expression quickly became blocked, like an unwanted wall between two rooms.

I knew at least one room felt as if the wall was unwanted.

I also knew that after one more try and I would eventually start putting up walls myself, but that one try I had to do. Maybe it was the moodiness but I felt more anxious, nervous, and inflamed than ever. I felt euphoric, even though I didn't feel happy too much. I could be happy. I really could, if I could fix whatever went wrong.

I decided in order to do that, I'd have to avoid conversations about the last time we saw each other. I'd have to focus on something simple; something I could talk about with anyone.

"How's Pansy?" I questioned.

Hazel flinched at the name, and I furrowed my eyebrows with complete confusion.

"I really didn't mean to be so unkind to her. She's a really dear friend of mine, which is probably exactly why she gets on my nerves so easily—"

She raised a hand in request for my pause.

"She filled me in with the whole life story, and even if she hadn't, I figured most of it out for myself. And if you want to apologize, I'm quite sure I'm the last person you should be talking to."

That made me snap.

"Oh, really? So that's what you're trying to do, huh? Let us pretend nothing in the world happened between us. Let's pretend we can rewind this first week and act like there's nothing going on between us too. How about we also pretend we're both complete strangers that don't even bother say hello to each other if their routes pass alongside each other. Alright, I'll play. Let's see which one of us breaks first. Or did you have something else in mind for this game's end?"

Hazel stared at me with stone cold eyes. But those eyes were certainly not the right colour.

"What did you do to your eyes, anyway? Is this some lame attempt at physically portraying your starting over stage?" If she was going to hurt me, then the match has begun.

"I don't understand. What are you talking about? Did the Le'Morange hurt your brain cells too?"

"Hazel!"

"What?!"

"No, I mean you're eyes. They're the _colour_ of hazel."

"They're brown?" she asked in shock.

"Sure, whatever you prefer," I answered, annoyed.

There was a long pause.

"I'm sorry I have to go," she whispered slowly, like a ghost. She jumped up from the white seat she was resting on and started leaving me behind just the way she have four days ago. Oh, I was counting alright.

I raised my eyebrows daringly at my arm. It looked fine.

I jumped from my protective hospital sheets and grabbed an escaping Hazel's arm. I yanked her towards me even though I felt a little out of it. I stumbled a bit through the sparks our touch increased, but preserved my balance.

"You don't get to leave like that again," I breathed. "It's an explanation, or a no-go," I said more fiercely.

We stared into each other's eyes for a long moment, and then started switching between our eyes and lips. My breathing quickened. I wished more than anything that she wasn't trying to run away from me right this second. I realised my grip on her arm was unconsciously pulling her closer. She wasn't attempting to stop me.

Madame Pomfrey is a nice woman. Mostly.

This was not one of those mosts.

She cleared her throat to get our attention. We turned around. I knew I was flushed, but I sure as hell wasn't going to look at Hazel at this point.

"You," she looked at me with blazing eyes, "need to rest." I nodded and quickly hopped back into the dungeon of white. I quickly pulled the sheets over me to make me look even more innocent, which I was not. Especially not in Madame Pomfrey's eyes. "And you," I saw the scene of her turning to Hazel cut in half due to the white curtain which blocked the younger woman out of sight, "need to drink," finished the nurse.

Drink? How come she got away with nothing but kindness? I grumbled as I heard Hazel easily leaving the Hospital Wing without a detention whatsoever. But the steps weren't getting quitter… they were getting louder eventually. I braced myself for an even stronger scold from the angry medic, but instead the delightful aroma of Hazel's regular perfume trickled into the air. She stepped into the bright prison of mine, and closed the curtain. She leaned in close to me and I felt my chest jolt in surprise.

"Contacts," she whispered. "I'm wearing contacts."

I blinked. Then she left me behind again.

Nightfall arrived and excitement or even feeble interest has escaped my mood. I tossed and turned in the dark trying to find a spot that didn't hurt my arm, sides, stomach, or my back. This is like trying to go rock climbing without a rock! I thought with fury. As I twisted around like some sort of vermin, I tried to discover the location of a clock in this room. I looked on my nightstand, but all I saw was a dark, rectangular object.

Shifting my body towards a visible angle, I registered the item to be Professor Slughorn's potions book.

It had a note on it.

I quickly picked it up, praying that I'd be able to read the messily cursive letters it in the twilight.

_Mr Malfoy, I trust you'll put this to good use. Solve the puzzle, my young student. _


End file.
